Unearthing Jerusalem: 150 Years of Archaeological Research in the Holy City 9781575066592

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Unearthing Jerusalem

Unearthing Jerusalem 150 Years of Archaeological Research in the Holy City

Edited by

Katharina Galor and Gideon Avni

Winona Lake, Indiana Eisenbrauns 2011

© 2011 by Eisenbrauns Inc. All rights reserved Printed in the United States of America www.eisenbrauns.com

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data Unearthing Jerusalem : 150 years of archaeological research in the Holy City / edited by Katharina Galor and Gideon Avni.     p. cm. Includes bibliographical references and index. ISBN 978-1-57506-223-5 (hardback : alk. paper) 1. Excavations (Archaeology)—Jerusalem—History—Congresses.  2. Excavations (Archaeology)—West Bank—History—Congresses.  3.  Antiquities, Prehistoric— Jerusalem—Congresses. 4. Jerusalem—Antiquities, Roman—Congresses. ​ 5. Jerusalem—Antiquities, Byzantine—Congresses.  I. Galor, Katharina.  II. Avni, Gideon. DS109.9.U54 2011 956.94′42—dc23 2011040274

The paper used in this publication meets the minimum requirements of the American National Standard for Information Sciences—Permanence of Paper for Printed Library Materials, ANSI Z39.48-1984. †Ê

Contents Unearthing Jerusalem: 150 Years of Archaeological Research . . . . . . . . . .  ix Gideon Avni and Katharina Galor Where Three Roads Meet: Jewish, Christian, and Muslim Pilgrimage to Jerusalem . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .   1 Frank E. Peters Part 1

The History of Research British Archaeological Work in Jerusalem between 1865 and 1967: An Assessment . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .  23 Shimon Gibson The German Protestant Institute of Archaeology (Deutsches Evangelisches Institut für Altertumswissenschaft des Heiligen Landes) . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .  59 Ulrich Hübner The American Archaeological Presence in Jerusalem: Through the Gates of the Albright Institute . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .  73 Joan R. Branham The École Biblique et Archéologique Française: A Catholic, French, and Archaeological Institution . . . . . . . . . . . .  95 Dominique Trimbur The Archaeology of Jerusalem and the Franciscans of the Studium Biblicum . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 109 Michele Piccirillo † The Israel Exploration Society (IES) . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 117 Ronny Reich The Departments of Antiquities and the Israel Antiquities Authority (1918–2006): The Jerusalem Experience . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 125 Jon Seligman Part 2

From Early Humans to the Iron Age Prehistory of the Jerusalem Area . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 149 Ofer Bar-Yosef v

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The Archaeology of Early Jerusalem: From the Late Proto-Historic Periods (ca. 5th Millennium) to the End of the Late Bronze Age (ca. 1200 b.c.e.) . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 171 Aren M. Maeir Jerusalem in the Iron Age: Archaeology and Text; Reality and Myth . . . . . . 189 Israel Finkelstein Part 3

The Roman Period The Location of the Second Temple and the Layout of its Courts, Gates, and Chambers: A New Proposal . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 205 Joseph Patrich Has the Adiabene Royal Family “Palace” Been Found in the City of David? . . 231 Doron Ben-Ami and Yana Tchekhanovets The Pool of Siloam in Jerusalem of the Late Second Temple Period and Its Surroundings . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 241 Ronny Reich and Eli Shukron A Domestic Quarter from the Second Temple Period on the Lower Slopes of the Central Valley (Tyropoeon) . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 257 Zvi Greenhut Coins from Excavations in the Domestic Quarter of the City of David, Jerusalem . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 294 Donald T. Ariel On the “New City” of Second Temple Period Jerusalem: The Archaeological Evidence . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 299 Hillel Geva Aelia Capitolina: A Review of Some Current Debates about Hadrianic Jerusalem . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 313 Jodi Magness Part 4

The Byzantine Period The Urban Layout of Byzantine-Period Jerusalem . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 327 Oren Gutfeld Epigraphic Finds Reveal New Chapters in the History of the Church of the Holy Sepulchre in the 6th Century . . . . . . . . . . . . . 351 Leah Di Segni The Hinterland of Jerusalem during the Byzantine Period . . . . . . . . . . . . 361 Jon Seligman

Contents

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Part 5

The Early Islamic and Medieval Periods From Hagia Polis to Al-Quds: The Byzantine–Islamic Transition in Jerusalem . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 387 Gideon Avni Jerusalem and the Beginnings of the Islamic City . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 399 Donald Whitcomb Early Islamic and Medieval City Walls of Jerusalem in Light of New Discoveries . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 417 Shlomit Weksler-Bdolah Ayyubid Jerusalem: New Architectural and Archaeological Discoveries . . . . . 453 Mahmoud Hawari Mamluk and Ottoman Jerusalem . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 475 Robert Schick

Unearthing Jerusalem: 150 Years of Archaeological Research

Gideon Avni

Israel Antiquities Authority

and

Katharina Galor Brown University

Early Beginnings On a cold winter morning in January of 1851, a small group of people approached the monumental façade of an ancient rock-cut burial cave located north of the Old City of Jerusalem. The team, consisting of two Europeans and a number of local workers, was led by Louis-Félicien Caignart de Saulcy—descendant of a noble Flemish family who later was to become a distinguished member of the French parliament. As an amateur archaeologist and a devout Catholic, de Saulcy was attracted to the Holy Land and Jerusalem in particular and was obsessed by his desire to uncover some tangible evidence for the city’s glorious past. However, unlike numerous other European pilgrims, researchers and adventurers before him, de Saulcy was determined to expose the evidence by physically excavating ancient sites. His first object of investigation constitutes one of the most attractive and mysterious monumental burial caves within the vicinity of the Old City, from then onward to be referred to as the “Tomb of the Kings” (Kubur al-Muluk). By conducting an archaeological investigation, de Saulcy tried to prove that this complex represented no less than the monumental sepulcher of the biblical Davidic Dynasty. His brief exploration of the burial complex in 1851 led to the discovery of several ancient artifacts, including sizeable marble fragments of one or several sarcophagi. It would take him another 13 years to raise the funds for a more comprehensive investigation of the site. On November 17, 1863, de Saulcy returned to Jerusalem with a larger team to initiate what would later be referred to as the first archaeological excavation to be conducted in the city (Silberman 1982: 66–72). From de Saulcy’s report, we know that he encountered the same obstacles that numerous modern and contemporary scholars experience. Obtaining an excavation permit from the local authorities was notoriously complicated. Furthermore, he had to conduct his work under the pressures of the local neighbors, who were extremely suspicious of these strangers digging on what they rightly considered to be their territory. Finally, he had to overcome the fierce objections against the digging up of ancient burial places expressed by the local Jewish ultra-orthodox community (de Saulcy 1853, 1865). These difficulties and pressures, however, did not prevent de Saulcy from proceeding with his ambitious project, because he was determined to uncover evidence of the Judean royal sepulchers and to provide physical proof for the biblical narrative. Soon after he began his exploration, however, ix

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he was forced to interrupt his work and leave Jerusalem immediately. As he escaped the country, he managed to take with him some of the finds he uncovered, which since have been part of the collection of the Louvre in Paris.

Research Activities Although de Saulcy’s identification of the Tomb of the Kings was refuted long ago—the monumental complex has since been accurately dated to the 1st century c.e. and identified as the burial of Queen Helene of Adiabene (Kloner and Zissu 2007: 133–36)—his pioneering endeavor paved the way from some 150 years of continuous excavations in and around Jerusalem. The exact number of archaeological field projects conducted in Jerusalem between 1863 and 2010 is uncertain. The Israel Antiquities Authority archives include some 1,263 entries for excavations conducted during this period in and around Jerusalem. The actual number, however, is probably far higher. Many “unofficial” or clandestine explorations were conducted in proximity to the city, mainly between the second half of the 19th century and the 1970s. These, unfortunately, have not left any written records. In addition to this long history of excavation, numerous spontaneous finds, which were not revealed during the course of proper archaeological investigation, have been documented by researchers. It appears much more likely that the number of excavations conducted in and around the Old City of Jerusalem over the last 150 years comes much closer to 1,850 initiatives. The total surface explored throughout those years has been exceptional. About 25% of the area corresponding to the ancient city has been excavated or surveyed over the last decade and a half (fig. 1). Hundreds of scholars have invested much time and effort exploring numerous sections consisting of multiple layers, each testifying to a different chapter in the history of the city. Archaeologists have turned Jerusalem’s landscape into one of the most extensively explored sites in the world. In addition to excavations, hundreds of ancient buildings dating to the Medieval and Early Modern periods within the Old City and its immediate surroundings have been surveyed and documented. The outcome of this physical activity is the related research that has produced thousands of books and scholarly papers, covering almost every aspect of the history and material remains in Jerusalem and reconstructing its long sequence of more than 6,000 years of human habitation. Today, we have at our disposal an enormous archaeological database covering the entire occupational history of the city beginning in the Chalcolithic period, spanning the Bronze and Iron Ages, the Hellenistic, Roman, and Byzantine periods, the Early Islamic, the Crusader, the Mamluk and Ottoman periods, and more recent materials reaching up to the 21st century. Though the focus of scholarly investigation in Jerusalem has shifted often over the course of the last 150 years, resulting mostly in highly specialized publications, several attempts to provide comprehensive evaluations have been made. These summarize some of the main periods and topics in the history of the city. In the 1870s, the earliest reports on archaeological and architectural surveys and excavations carried out in the Old City were produced by the legendary teams of

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Fig. 1.  Excavated areas in the Old City and surrounding areas of Jerusalem.

the Palestine Exploration Fund (Wilson 1865; Wilson and Warren 1871; Warren 1884; Warren and Conder 1884). Fewer than fifty years later, the Dominican fathers Louis Hughes Vincent and Félix Marie Abel of the École biblique et archéologique française published the first comprehensive study on Jerusalem examining both archaeological discoveries and historical sources (Vincent and Abel 1914–26). Although written nearly 100 years ago, their compilations are still among the most significant reference works on the city’s archaeological remains. The latter’s monumental task was carried on and updated by Vincent and Steve (1954), also of the École biblique, spanning the whole sequence of periods investigated up until the 1950s. A number of archaeological reports documenting large-scale excavations conducted in the city during the first half of the 20th century have been published. These include the City of David excavations (Weil 2004; Crowfoot and Fitzgerald

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1929; Macalister and Duncan 1926); the explorations of the northern wall (Hamilton 1944) and the “Third Wall” (Sukenik and Mayer 1930); the Citadel ( Johns 1950); and the al-Aqsa Mosque (Hamilton 1949). Final reports on Kathleen Kenyon’s excavations conducted in the 1960s were published more recently (Eshel and Prag 1995; Steiner 2001; Prag 2008). Those of the City of David, the Jewish Quarter, and the Temple Mount carried out in the 1970s and 1980s have been partially published (Shiloh 1984, Ariel et al. 1990, 1992, 1996, 2000a, 2000b; Geva 2000; 2003; 2006; E. Mazar 2003, 2007). Additional publications documenting those latter projects are still underway. Several overviews and summaries of the archaeology of Jerusalem have appeared in print since the 1970s (Kenyon 1974; Mazar 1975; Bahat 1990; Ben-Dov 2002; Reich 2011; Galor and Bloedhorn forthcoming). A number of recent publications have brought up to date ongoing fieldwork. These include the New Encyclopedia of Archaeological Excavations in the Holy Land (1994) with a recent supplementary volume (2008); both include detailed overviews of all major excavations carried out in the city. A large-scale archaeological survey of the greater Jerusalem area was recently published in the “Archaeological Survey of Israel” series (Kloner 2001–3). The 3-volume documentation of Grundzüge der Baugeschichte vom Chalkolithikum bis zur Frühzeit der osmanischen Herrschaft (Bieberstein and Bloedhorn 1994) includes a detailed survey of archaeological remains in the city with exhaustive bibliographical references. Recently, Jerusalem: Ein Handbuch der Studienreiseführer zur heiligen Stadt (Kuchler 2007) complements this important work, including also the most recent discoveries. The British School of Archaeology in Jerusalem has initiated several major studies focusing on the architectural legacy of the Medieval and modern periods in Jerusalem, dedicated to the Ayyubid period (Hawari 2007; Hillebrand and Auld 2009), to the Mamluk (Burgoyne 1987), and to the Ottoman (Auld and Hillenbrand 2000). The Crusader period has also been documented in detail, one study being devoted to the city and its material remains generally (Boaz 2001) and the other establishing a complete corpus of ecclesiastic structures in Jerusalem (Pringle 2007). Additional evidence to be considered in the evaluation of the city’s material remains is the tremendous database of literary sources. A series of edited volumes on the history of Jerusalem on the history of Jerusalem was published by Yad Ben Zvi, covering the “biblical” period from the Chalcolithic to the Iron Age (Ahituv and Mazar 2000), the Late Roman and Byzantine Periods (Tsafrir and Safrai 1999), the Early Islamic period (Prawer and Ben Shammai 1996). and the Crusader and Ayyubid periods (Prawer and Shammai 1991), and the 19th century (Bartal and Goren 2010). Comprehensive summaries enlisting some principal literary sources, primarily the Holy Scriptures and pilgrim accounts of the three monotheistic religions, have appeared in print (Peters 1985). These have been supplemented by the extensive documentation of epigraphic data from the city (van Berchem 1922, 1927; Cotton et al. 2010). Finally, numerous studies have been dedicated to selected periods in the history of Jerusalem, incorporating into their text archaeological data retrieved from excavations (e.g., Elad 1995; Eliav 2005).

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Current Topics of Research The enormous body of professional and scholarly literature reporting and evaluating the city’s historical, archaeological, architectural, art historical, and epigraphic past has provided a solid basis for the critical evaluation and discussion of specific topics of research. It sometimes has led to highly controversial debates concerning: 1.  The city limits and fortifications during the Middle Bronze Age 2.  The Iron Age I period with the opposing views of the “low” and “high” chronology as well as the significance and size of the “Solomonic” city; 3.  The course of the Second and Third Walls and the extent of the city before its destruction in 70 c.e. 4.  The construction date of Aelia Capitolina, its boundaries, and the location of the camp of the Tenth Legion Fretensis. 5.  The transition from Byzantine to Early Islamic Jerusalem. 6.  The confusion between Crusader and Ayyubid period structures and the relatively recent recognition of the latter as a distinct building phase. Our intent with the 2006 conference at Brown University was to provide, insofar as it is possible, a balanced view of the scholarly discussions, encompassing all periods of interest beginning with prehistoric times and reaching all the way to the Ottoman period. Rather than presenting a homogenous picture, our goal was to present various, and sometimes even opposing, views. For many decades, preferential attention among scholars has been given to the periods of the biblical kings, the Herodian era as well as the early days of Christianity. As is true for most regions of the Near East, in Jerusalem too, specific periods and phases of occupation have received a more thorough treatment, and both exploration and documentation have been highly influenced by this selective interest. This exclusivity has changed in recent decades. But it will take at least a generation before scholarly discourse and specific controversies regarding these newly studied eras will emerge. For now, one needs to be grateful that the recognition that the more recent past ought to be documented and studied has emerged and already has resulted in some resourceful publications.

Conference Papers The opening article, by Frank E. Peters, provides the setting and framework for research on the Holy City, which occupies a significant place in the three major western religions. The unique position of Jerusalem in the minds of Jews, Christians, and Muslims worldwide has had a major effect on the extent of pilgrimage to Jerusalem and has influenced the progress of growth and urban changes in the city during the last 3,000 years. Western attitudes towards the Holy City have been very much influenced by its unique position, and it seems that the development of modern scholarly research has also been affected by the city’s special status . The first section of the book is devoted to the history of research on Jerusalem, presented through the perspective of various local and foreign research institutions established in the city since the 19th century. Shimon Gibson summarizes a whole century of British archaeological work in Jerusalem, from the first survey of

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the “Palestine Exploration Fund” in 1867 to the extensive excavations of Kathleen Kenyon in Jerusalem in the 1960s. Ulrich Hubner relates the story of the German Protestant Institute of Archaeology, established in Jerusalem in 1903. Joan Branham provides a description of the American archaeological presence in Jerusalem, initiated by the pioneering research of Edward Robinson in 1838. She focuses on the Albright Institute, established in 1900, and describes its contribution as a meeting place for scholars in Jerusalem since then. Dominique Trimbur and Michelle Piccirillo describe the unique mission of Christian religious institutions that have promoted archaeological work in the Holy Land. The École biblique housed some of the finest archaeologists working in Jerusalem and elsewhere in the Holy Land, most notably fathers Louis Hugues Vincent and Felix Marie Abel. The Studium Biblicum Franciscanum of Jerusalem, recently declared by the Vatican as a faculty of Biblical Sciences and Archaeology, has been active in research on the Holy Land since its opening in 1923. It continues a century-old Franciscan contribution to the study of the Holy Land, which began as early as the 13th century with pilgrims’ and travelers’ descriptions. The Israel Exploration Society, established in 1913 and again in 1920, has provided the basis for all Hebrew (later, Israeli) archaeological excavations in Jerusalem. Ronny Reich establishes the first steps taken by the IES and its pioneering archaeological excavations. Finally, Jon Seligman concludes this section with a comprehensive description of the development and activities of the British, Jordanian, and Israeli Departments of Antiquities, from 1918 to the establishment of the Israel Antiquities Authority in 1990. The second part of the volume is devoted to recent evaluations of the archaeology of Jerusalem and its environs from prehistoric times to the Iron Age. Ofer Bar Yosef describes the main excavations and finds at prehistoric sites inside the city, as well as within the larger area and the Judean Desert. Aren Maeir presents an updated view on the development of the first stages of permanent habitation in Jerusalem and describes the evolution of a small settlement near the Gihon spring into a significant Canaanite city. His evaluation is supported by the impressive recent finds of Middle Bronze Age fortifications in the City of David excavations. Iron Age Jerusalem is represented by Israel Finkelstein’s paper, displaying his revisionist interpretation of the growth and development of the city during the 8th and 7th centuries b.c.e. Several articles are devoted to the Hellenistic and Roman periods. Some of these present preliminary reports of recent excavations, and others focus on specific research topics, revealing further evidence for the growing prosperity of the city during this time. Joseph Patrich provides a new interpretation for the location of the Second Temple and the layout of the temple’s court gates and chambers. Because neither excavations nor surveys can currently be conducted on the Haram al-Sharif, his study is based on the data and plans from surveys conducted in the 19th century. Three articles present the results of ongoing excavations in the City of David in which remains of the Roman period have been exposed. Doron Ben-Ami and Yana Tchekhanovets describe new results of their large scale excavation conducted in the northern section of the City of David. They have exposed a monumental

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building from the 1st century c.e., which, according to the authors, constituted one of the palaces built by the Adiabene Dynasty in the 1st century c.e., a palace mentioned by Josephus Flavius in his description of the city. Farther down the spur of the City of David, Zvi Greenhut excavated another area in which the remains of several opulent structures, cut into and built against the local bedrock, were revealed. The excavation results show that this area consituted one of the domestic quarters in the 1st century c.e. Jerusalem, destroyed and abandoned during the conquest of the city by the Roman legions in 70 c.e. Another nearby excavation uncovered the monumental remains of a pool, located in the Tyropoeon Valley to the south of the City of David. This accidental discovery led to a salvage excavation conducted by Ronny Reich and Eli Shukron, who reconstruct the shape of the structure and identify it as the “Siloam Pool,” a focal point for pilgrims on their way to the Temple Mount. The northern part of 1st-century Jerusalem is the subject of Hillel Geva’s paper. Because this section of the ancient city was previously unavailable to large scale excavations, his reconstruction relies on fragmentary evidence and on inferences from historical descriptions by Josephus. Jodi Magness’s paper on Aelia Capitolina reviews the current debates on the establishment of the new Pagan city by Hadrian. Three articles provide hitherto unknown data on Byzantine Jerusalem. Oren Gutfeld summarizes the development of the streets of Jerusalem between the 4th and 7th centuries. He evaluates the fragmentary information available on Byzantine streets on Mt. Zion, the City of David, and within the Old City. Based on his work related to the publication of the Jewish Quarter excavations and on his recent excavation near the Hurva synagogue, he presents a comprehensive survey on the development of the urban network in Jerusalem. Lea Di Segni furnishes a new interpretation of several inscriptions and monograms discovered in the Church of the Holy Sepulchre in the 1960s. Her illuminating discussion provides a novel interpretation for the history of the Church in the 6th century c.e. To conclude the Byzantine period, Jon Seligman summarizes the extensive excavations and surveys conducted in the hinterland of Jerusalem and demonstrates that the presence of a large pilgrimage center in the Byzantine city led to the construction of many monasteries and agricultural farms in its periphery. The final section of the present volume is devoted to the Early Islamic and medieval periods. To begin, Gideon Avni explores the archaeological evidence for the transformation from Byzantine to Early Islamic Jerusalem, suggesting that, contrary to previous views, the transition constituted a long process during which a significant Christian presence was evident throughout the Early Islamic period. Donald Whitcomb presents a new urban concept that characterized Jerusalem during the Early Islamic period. According to him, the city’s functional divisions were similar to other Islamic urban centers. Shlomit Weksler-Bdolah addresses the development of the Early Islamic and Medieval walls of Jerusalem, after the Roman–Byzantine wall was abandoned, and describes the later incarnations of this wall until the construction of the present wall in the Ottoman period. Ayyubid Jerusalem is the subject of Mahmoud Hawari’s article, which describes some of the major architectural

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monuments of the city following the Crusader period. The volume is concluded by Robert Schick’s contribution on the Mamluk period. Schick provides a synchronic description of the city based both on historical sources and archaeological remains.

Acknowledgments The three-day gathering and discussion of scholars devoted to the archaeology of Jerusalem in November of 2006 at Brown University would not have been possible without the generous support of the Ruth and Joseph Moscow endowment and the sponsorship of the following academic units at Brown: the Cogut Center for the Humanities, the Joukowsky Institute of Archaeology and the Ancient World, the Program in Judaic Studies, and the Watson Institute for International Studies. We are also grateful to Miriam Vamosh Feinberg for her editorial work assuring the quality of this volume’s final outcome. We hope that the present book will turn into a valuable resource for students and scholars interested in the history and archaeology of the city of Jerusalem.

References Cited Ahituv, S. and Mazar, A. (eds.) 2000 The History of Jerusalem: The Biblical Period. Jerusalem: Yad Ben Zvi. [Hebrew] Ariel, D. T., et al. (eds.) 1990 Excavations in the City of David II: Imported Stamped Amphora Handles, Coins, Worked Bone and Ivory, and Glass. Qedem 30. Jerusalem: Institute of Archaeology, The Hebrew University. 1992 Excavations in the City of David III: Stratigraphical, Environmental and Other Reports. Qedem 33. Jerusalem: Institute of Archaeology, The Hebrew University. 1996 Excavations in the City of David IV: Various Reports. Qedem 35. Jerusalem: Institute of Archaeology, The Hebrew University. 2000a Excavations in the City of David V: Extramural Areas. Qedem 40. Jerusalem: Institute of Archaeology, The Hebrew University. 2000b Excavations in the City of David VI: Inscriptions Qedem 41. Jerusalem: Institute of Archaeology, The Hebrew University. Auld, S., and Hillendbrand, R. (eds.) 2000 Ottoman Jerusalem: The Living City 1517–1917. London: British School of Archaeology in Jerusalem. Bahat, D. 1990 The Illustrated Atlas of Jerusalem. New York: Simon and Schuster. Bartal, I. and Goren H. (eds.) 2010 The History of Jerusalem: The Late Ottoman Period (1800–1917). Jerusalem: Yad Ben Zvi. Ben Dov, M. 1982 In the Shadow of the Temple. New York: Harper and Row. 2002 The Historical Atlas of Jerusalem. New York: Continuum. Bieberstein, K., and Bloedhorn, H. 1994 Jerusalem: Grundzüge der Baugeschichte vom Chalkolithikum bis zur Frühzeit der osmanischen Herrschaft. Wiesbaden: Reichert. Bliss, F. J., and Dickie, A. C. 1898 Excavations in Jerusalem. London: Palestine Exploration Fund. Boaz, A. 2001 Jerusalem in the Times of the Crusaders. London: Routledge.

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Burgoyne, M. H. 1987 Mamluk Jerusalem: An Archaeological Study. London: British School of Archaeology in Jerusalem. Corbo, V. 1981 Il Santo Sepolcro de Gerusalemme, I–III. Jerusalem: Studium Biblicum Franciscanum. Cotton, H. M.; Di Segni L.; Eck, W.; Isaac, B.; Kushnir-Stein, A.; Misgav, H.; Price J.; Roll, I.; and Yardeni, A. (eds.) 2010 Corpus Inscriptionum Iudaea/Palaestinae (CIIP), vol. I: Jerusalem, Part 1:1–704. Berlin: de Gruyter. Crowfoot, J. W., and Fitzgerald, G. M. 1929 Excavations in the Tyropoeon Valley, Jerusalem 1927. APEF 5. London: ��������������������� Palestine Exploration Fund. Elad, A. 1995 Medieval Jerusalem and Islamic Worship: Holy Places, Ceremonies, Pilgrimage. Leiden: Brill. Eliav, Y. 2005 God’s Mountain: The Temple Mount in Time, Place and Memory. Baltimore: Johns Hopkins University Press. Eshel, I., and Prag, K. (eds.) 1995 Escavations by K. M. Kenyon in Jerusalem 1961–1967, Vol. IV. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Galor, K., and Bloedhorn, H. forthcoming  The Archaeology of Jerusalem: From the Beginnings through the Ottoman Period. New Haven: Yale University Press. Geva, H. (ed.) 2000 Jewish Quarter Excavations in the Old City of Jerusalem, conducted by Nahman Avigad, 1969–1982, Vol. I: Architecture and Stratigraphy: Areas A, H and X-2. Jerusalem: Israel Exploration Society. 2003 Jewish Quarter Excavations in the Old City of Jerusalem, conducted by Nahman Avigad, 1969–1982, Vol. II: The Finds from Areas A, W. and X-2. Jerusalem: Israel Exploration Society. 2006 Jewish Quarter Excavations in the Old City of Jerusalem, conducted by Nahman Avigad, 1969–1982, Vol. III: Area E and Other Studies. Jerusalem: Israel Exploration Society.. Grabar O. 1996 The Shape of the Holy—Early Islamic Jerusalem. Princeton: Princeton University Press. Hamilton, R.W. 1944 Excavations Against the North Wall of Jerusalem. Quarterly of the Department of Antiquities of Palestine 10:1-54. 1949 The Structural History of the Aqsa Mosque. Jerusalem. Hawari, M. 2007 Ayyubid Jerusalem (1187–1250): An Architectural and Archaeological Study. BAR Intranational Series 1628. Oxford: Archeopress. Hillebrand, R., and Auld, S. (eds.) 2009 Ayyubid Jerusalem: The Holy City in Context (1187–1250). London: Altajir Trust. Kenyon, K. 1974 Digging up Jerusalem. London and Tonbridge: Ernest Benn. Kloner, A. 2000 Archaeological Survey of Israel, Survey of Jerusalem: The Southern Sector. Jerusalem: Israel Antiquities Authority. 2001 Archaeological Survey of Israel, Survey of Jerusalem: The Northeastern Sector. Jerusalem: Jerusalem: Israel Antiquities Authority.

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2003 Archaeological Survey of Israel, Survey of Jerusalem: The Northwestern Sector, Introduction and Indices. Jerusalem: Jerusalem: Israel Antiquities Authority. Kloner, A., and Zissu, B. 2007 The Necropolis of Jerusalem in the Second Temple Period. Leuven: Peeters. Macalister, R. A. S., and Duncan, J. G. 1926 Excavations on the Hill of Ophel, Jerusalem, 1923–1925. APEF 4. London: Palestine Exploration Fund. Mazar, B. 1975 The Mountain of the Lord. New York: Doubleday. Mazar, E. 2003 The Temple Mount Excavations in Jerusalem, 1968–1978 Directed by Benjamin Mazar. Final Reports II: The Byzantine and Early Islamic Periods. Qedem 46. Jerusalem: Institute of Archaeology, The Hebrew University. 2007 The Temple Mount Excavations in Jerusalem, 1968–1978 Directed by Benjamin Mazar. FinalReports III: The Byzantine Period. Qedem 43. Jerusalem: Institute of Archaeology, The Hebrew University Peters, F. E. 1985 Jerusalem. Princeton: Princeton University Press. Prag, K. 2008 Excavations by K. M. Kenyon in Jerusalem 1961–1967, Volume V: Discoveries in Hellenistic through Ottoman Jerusalem. Oxford: Oxbow Books. Prawer, J., and Ben Shammai, H. (eds.) 1991 The History of Jerusalem: Crusaders and Ayyubids (1099–125). Jerusalem: Yad Ben Zvi. [Hebrew] 1996 The History of Jerusalem: The Early Muslim Period (638–1099). Jerusalem: Yad Ben Zvi Pringle, D. 2007 The Churches of the Crusader Kingdom of Jerusalem, A Corpus III: The City of Jerusalem. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Reich, R. 2001 Excavating the City of David: Where Jerusalem’s History Began. Jerusalem: Israel Exploration Society. Saulcy, F. de 1853 Voyage autour de la Mer Morte et dans les terres bibliques. Paris: Gide et J. Baudry. 1865 Voyage en Terre Sainte. Paris: Didier. Shiloh, Y. 1984 Excavations at the City of David 1978–1982, I: Interim Report on the First Five Excavations. Qedem 19. Jerusalem: Institute of Archaeology, The Hebrew University Silberman, N. 1982 Digging for God and Country: Exploration, Archaeology and the Secret Struggle for the Holy Land 1799–1917. New York: Knopf. Steiner, M. L. 2001 Excavations by Kathleen M. Kenyon in Jerusalem 1961–1967, Vol. III. London: Sheffield: Sheffield Academic Press. Sukenik, E. L., and Mayer, L. A. 1930 The Third Wall: An Account of Excavation. Jerusalem: The Hebrew University. Tsafrir, Y. and Safrai, S. (eds.) 1999 The History of Jerusalem: The Roman and Byzantine Period (70–638). Jerusalem: Yad Ben Zvi. [Hebrew] Tushingham, A. D. 1985 Excavations by K. M. Kenyon in Jerusalem 1961–1967, Vol. 1: Excavations in the Armenian Garden on the Western Hill. Toronto: Royal Ontario Museumm.

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Van Berchen, M. 1922–27  Matériaux pour un Corpus Inscriptionum Arabicarum II ‘Ville’, ‘Haram’. Cairo: Institute Français d’Archéologie Orientale. Vincent, L. H., and Abel F.-M. 1914–26  Jérusalem, Recherches de topographie, d’archeologie et d’histoire, Tome II: Jérusalem Nouvelle. Paris: Lecoffre. Warren, C. 1884 Excavations of Jerusalem 1867–1870. London: Palestine Exploration Fund. Warren, C., and Conder, C. R. 1884 The Survey of Western Palestine: Jerusalem. London: Palestine Exploration Fund. Weill, R. 2004 The City of David: Revisiting early Excavations. Washington, D.C: Biblical Archaeology Society. Wilson, C. W. 1865 Ordnance Survey of Jerusalem. London: Palestine Exploration Fund. Wilson, C., and Warren, C. 1871 The Recovery of Jerusalem. London: R. Bentley.

Where Three Roads Meet: Jewish, Christian, and Muslim Pilgrimage to Jerusalem Frank E. Peters

New York University

“Where three roads meet” is an ominous phrase. It was the telltale detail that gave Oedipus to understand that the traveler he had killed at such an intersection was none other than his own father, as the oracle had predicted. There is another such intersection. It is called Jerusalem, and it is the place where three groups of travelers have met and mingled and collided, often with fatal results, over the centuries. There is no end to books about this famous intersection; I have contributed two of them myself (Peters 1985; 1987). The reasons for the glut are fairly obvious. Jerusalem has had a spectacularly long and incredibly varied history. It has also been the object of desire. The desire to possess Jerusalem in the political sense, to exercise sovereignty over this coveted place, both triggers and explains a great deal of the history of the city. But Jerusalem is the object of another kind of desire, another kind of possession. Like Aristotle’s First Cause, kinei de hôs eroumenos, “it moves as an object of love” (Metaphysics XII, 7: 1072b) Across the centuries, Jerusalem has drawn millions of people to its gates and into its inner places. It is that latter desire and that motion toward Jerusalem that are the subject here. Jerusalem has been, and likely will continue to be, many things to many people. For everyone it is a city, for some a home. It has been, in its day, a political capital and is so once again. It was and is a political chip, to be played, traded, surrendered, or even gifted. Indeed, the Ottoman Sultan might well have given Jerusalem to the German Kaiser Wilhelm II, in October of 1898, if the latter had only asked politely enough. 1 The city’s treasures were once a rich spoil, though perhaps no longer, and long ago tempted Assyrians, Babylonians, Greeks, and Romans, who had other ends in mind, to turn aside at Jerusalem and carry off what they could. In the 11th century, it was the goal of a Holy War launched from Christian Europe to wrest the city from the infidel Muslims, who wrested it right back from the crossed Europeans. Two centuries later it was the favored place of exile for Muslim military grandees banished from Egypt, and they used their annuities to erect and adorn buildings, schools, and convents whose elegance still dazzles along the northern and western margins of the Temple Mount. 2 It once had on its eastern hill the largest religious 1. The New York Times’ breathless report of November 27, 1898 on the Kaiser’s October visit still makes interesting reading. 2.  For context and construction, see Drory 1981: 190­–214.

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complex in the ancient world, the Herodian Temple Mount; 3 it still supports in the very same place of the original temple the earliest and loveliest Islamic building ever built, the shrine called the Dome of the Rock. 4 But it was probably Paul, who was in Jerusalem to study law early in the first Christian century, who caught the essence of Jerusalem. There were, as he famously described it, two cities, a heavenly Jerusalem and “the city of today” (Gal 4:25–26). Like the Assyrians and Babylonians of old, Paul was heading somewhere else with his “allegory” of the two Jerusalems, but there is a profound truth there. There are indeed two Jerusalems, the historical city with its banal urban problems of traffic and sewage; its economic problems of supply and demand of trade, commerce, capital, and construction; its social problems of too many or too few people, or perhaps just the wrong people; and its political problems of the rulers, present and prospective, and the ruled. Jerusalem shares all these concerns with other cities of the same size and environment, but there is also the heavenly Jerusalem, which, for all its celestial location, visits on its earthly counterpart a host of earthly problems that are alien to other cities, no matter what their size or location. For some, the heavenly Jerusalem stands on sturdy theological foundations, but for others, for most others, it is the stuff of dreams, the visionary city of Ezekiel or John of Patmos, society perfected, the covenant fulfilled. A great deal of the heavenly Jerusalem has rained down upon its earthly counterpart, and that powerful theological image has cast its shadow upon the struggling saints and sinners who live in the earthbound town. The earthly Jerusalem has also become the stuff of dreams. It has quite literally moved to the center of the earth, as the medieval mapmakers show us (Rubin and Rubin 1996: 352–79) and assumed a position precisely beneath its heavenly counterpart. A cosmic axis runs through the two, linking heaven and earth, the Jerusalem on high and the city here below. We should not be deceived, however. The cosmic holiness of Jerusalem is an epiphenomenon, an attempt, it would appear, at distinguishing the earthly city, with all its imperfections, from the idealized version that is not so much its arche as its telos. It is not like the heavenly Torah or the Quranic Mother of the Book from which our earthly copies derive. Jerusalem was holy well before Ezekiel cast his eyes heavenward and certainly before Paul explained his allegory to the Galatians. But not from the beginning. We do not know anything about the beginning of Jerusalem. What we do know is that when it comes into our view in 2 Sam 5:7 it was a Jebusite city and so likely the home of a godly company of local Baals. 5 Pre-Israelite Jerusalem was a redolently unholy place. There is no mystery about the origins of Jerusalem’s sanctity. David made it the capital of the still young Israelite kingdom, but it was quite another act that rendered it holy. David ordered the Ark of the Covenant, the portable chest-throne 3.  Some of the most important testimonia are collected in my Jerusalem (1985: 76-80; and see now Goldhill 2005). 4.  Masterfully surveyed in Oleg Grabar et al. 1996. 5.  Earlier ( Judg 19:10), it had been referred to in passing as “Jebus, that is, Jerusalem.”

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atop whose mythical cherubim the Presence of the Lord had settled in the trek across Sinai and from which the divine commands issued (Exod 25:22) to be installed in Jerusalem. At first the Ark was merely in a tent, which was its usual housing, but David soon bethought himself of a more splendid domicile. “Here I am dwelling in a house of cedar, while the Ark of God abides in a tent,” the guilty David confided to the prophet Nathan. It was the Lord’s sentiment exactly: “Why have you not built me a house of cedar?” was the message he sent back to the king (2 Sam 7:1–12.). The house was eventually built, though not by David but his son Solomon, and both Kings and Chronicles supply lavish details on this long-disappeared architectural wonder that sat somewhere north of the Jebusites’—and David’s—original settlement. 6 The details are important. David had established the numinous presence in Jerusalem by bringing the Ark into the city, but Solomon had enshrined it there. It is the combination of the two acts, the numinous established and the numinous enshrined that creates the phenomenon that we call a holy city. And in that brief phrase we have come to the heart of what Jerusalem was and is, a holy city. In one of those earlier books on Jerusalem, I attempted to give a functional definition of a holy city. A holy city, I suggested, is one where the principal holy place is of such magnitude or allure that it dominates the city, changes its institutions, and creates its own, and it draws to the city numbers of people and types and amounts of investment that would not normally be found in an urban settlement of that size or in such a location (Peters 1987: 3). Holy cities double or triple their population during times of pilgrimage—a touristic windfall, no doubt, and a boom to the local economy, but often a mixed blessing for the host settlement, which must cope with an attendant myriad of social and political problems, and particularly not for the local rulers, who are, in a sense, in competition with an authority higher than themselves. Solomon’s reaction has already been noted, and there will be many others, a Herod, for example, or a Constantine or a Salah al-Din, who will respond with their own submissive but self-serving gestures, the investment of imperial funds and resources in the architectural adornment, usually monumental and just as often signed, of the principal holy place and its secondary derivatives. Holy cities can, like national capitals, often be identified by the architectural statements made in them. It is these two elements, the recognized presence of the numinous and its enshrinement that triggers that motion toward the city that is now deemed holy. Shrines do not render a city holy, but they are crucial in attracting attention to it. It is customary to distinguish pilgrimage from tourism, but the dark secret of pilgrimage is that tourism—the naked appeal of curiosity, however spiritually that latter is parsed—is always present in the mind and the heart of the believer trudging toward the Holy City. Solomon who built its grandiose temple is as responsible for the sanctity of Jerusalem as David who first brought the presence of the Lord to that place. 6.  The texts are displayed in Peters 1985: 13–18, and for the archeological evidence and suppositions: Kenyon 1974: 117–28; cf. Gutmann 1976.

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Our subject, then, is pilgrimage, a somewhat elastic term, and specifically pilgrimage to Jerusalem, a resilient but unmistakable place that has stubbornly remained in this very spot for 3,000 years, give or take an archaeologist or two. Pilgrimage, it is generally agreed, is an action, a motion toward, a motion triggered in the subject––we are back to Aristotle––by some real or perceived quality in the object, which, in this instance is the holy city of Jerusalem. That is not yet to say a great deal, but whenever pilgrimage or shrines or holy cities are discussed in a comparative context, it becomes immediately clear that Jerusalem is radically different from other holy cities. Not as an urban center, of course. The old city of Jerusalem might pass in a dim light for Damascus or Aleppo or Carcassonne or some other of the old walled cities of the Middle East or Europe. What makes it different is that three distinct faith communities claim it as their holy city––three very similar but tenacious and defiantly competitive sets of believers in the One True God. It is perhaps natural that Judaism, Christianity, and Islam should all regard Jerusalem as holy: all three share at least parts of the same biblical past, though assuredly they view both the Bible and the past through different sets of lenses. 7 This was, they agree, the city of Abraham and David and Solomon. Yes, the Christian adds, the Messiah Jesus of Nazareth. Yes, yes, the Muslim adds, Jesus and Muhammad as well, the latter not in the manner of the flesh perhaps, but spiritually and actually. 8 In Jewish eyes, Jesus may add nothing to the sanctity of Jerusalem, and, in Christian eyes, Muhammad nothing, but there is enough of a shared biblical past to make all three turn their eyes and hearts in the direction of Jerusalem, yes, and to visit it as well. This tension is true of every holy city, this interplay between the spiritual and the secular, the religious and the political, and it explains why there is so often contention in such cities. Indeed, were the Christians and Muslims voluntarily to withdraw from Jerusalem and all other political claims presently be surrendered to the Israelis, the city would probably be a not much less contentious place. Secular and religious Israelis, the Ministry of Religious Affairs, and the Department of Antiquities have enough Jewish holy-place issues between them to last for generations. But Jerusalem is not merely a contentious place, like all holy cities; it is also a contested city for the rather simple reason that it has long since become the focus of interest, as I have said, for three contesting religious bodies joined by common origins and yet separated by profoundly differing beliefs. It is not surprising, then, that there should be tensions between the visitors, whoever they are, and the hosts, whoever they might chance to be. The argument is sometimes about ideology. Witness the Muslim view of the Church of the Holy 7.  The view of the biblical data is complicated by the Muslim conviction that the Jewish (and Christian) Scriptures have been tampered with and thus effectively rendered useless; see Gaudeul and Caspar 1980: 61–104; Watt 1990: 77–85; Lazarus-Yefeh 1992. The Quran echoes a good bit of the Bible, but never textually and highly selectively. Its focus is almost exclusively on the biblical prophets; see now Adang 2007. 8.  The city was identified––eventually, if not originally––as the goal of his famous “Night Journey” mentioned in Q. 17:1 and endlessly elaborated by the later Muslim tradition (Peters 1985: 182–85).

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Sepulchre. According to the Quran and its standard exegesis, 9 Jesus’ death on the cross was only apparent: the Jews thought they crucified him; in fact, he ascended alive into heaven (Q. 4:158) whence he will return to signal the end of days (Robinson 1991: 78–105). On this view, it is not entirely unexpected that the Muslims, who venerate Jesus as a great prophet, should have little respect for the chief Christian Holy Place in Jerusalem, the Church of the Holy Sepulchre, the site, according to the Christians, of Jesus’ actual execution, burial, and resurrection from the dead. The Muslims call it by a rude name, 10 and the Egyptian Sultan al-Hakim found it so offensive that in 1009 he ordered it demolished. It was soon rebuilt, however, and Salah al-Din, when he retook Jerusalem from the Latins, was likewise counseled to destroy the offensive place. But Salah al-Din understood better than his counselors the nature of holy places. “The Christians would still be making pilgrimages here,” he said, “even if the earth itself were dug up and thrown into the sky.” 11 A brief aside: Al-Hakim’s deed was a horrendous business, of course, and when news of the destruction of Christendom’s primary holy place reached Europe, it added to the developing groundswell of resentment that eventually led to the Crusade some 90 years later. But it was followed by an even more pregnant event. The Byzantine emperor had been allowed to underwrite the reconstruction of the Holy Sepulchre in the 1030s (Peters 1985: 267), and then a few years later, when the walls of Jerusalem had fallen into disrepair, his successor agreed to supply money and labor for their rebuilding. But there was a stipulation: the Christians alone would be allowed to live in the newly walled quarter of the city––the northwest quadrant––and their affairs would rest solely in the hands of the Christian Patriarch of Jerusalem (Peters 1985: 270–71). Thus, in the 1160s, three decades before the European Crusade, there was a walled Christian quarter in Jerusalem, an enclave more or less free of Muslim control and dependent, it is clear, upon the Christian emperor in Constantinople. The principle of an external protectorate and internal extra-territoriality had been established in Jerusalem, a principle that exists, in a mitigated form, even today. To return to our main theme: as we have seen, Judaism, Christianity, and Islam are related but rival religious communities. All three claim to have sprung from the same origins, the Covenant made with Abraham, and all three claim to have the same end, the redemptive reward promised to the true heirs of Abraham, the Chosen People of God. This claim is true in all times and all places, in Los Angeles or Paris or London, for example, where, however, the officially secular state warns all three of the Chosen People to keep their hands off one another; the claim to unique authenticity is also true in Rome and Tel Aviv and Mecca, though there the rival communities cannot field a large enough team to make a difference. But in 9.  Q. 4: 157: “They [that is, the Jews] said: ‘We killed the Messiah Jesus, the son of Mary, the Messenger of God.’ But they killed him not, nor did they crucify him, but so it was made to appear to them. . . .” For a Muslim account of how this might have happened, and some earlier Christian speculation on the same subject, see Robinson 1991: 106–41. 10. The Arabic al-Qiyama, “The Resurrection” (= Anastasis) is transformed into al-Qumama, “The Dungheap”; cf. Peters 1985: 600 n. 9. 11.  On al-Hakim, see Peters 1985: 258–60, and on Salah al-Din’s remark, Peters 1985: 351–52.

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Palestine in general, and Jerusalem in particular, matters have been quite different. Here the rivals have all been present on the same pitch since the seventh century, and there has been only the frailty of self-imposed restraint to protect them from one another. Here in Jerusalem, ideology is converted into real estate. “Be ye holy as I am holy,” God declared, but in Palestine, God’s holiness comes to ground, becomes terrestrial, territorial, spatial. This is a Holy Land, and God’s many manifestations within its narrow confines have filled it with holy places. The holy place, the holiness of the place. Here in two quick steps we are back to the motive, the final cause that sets the pilgrim in motion. But it seems more complex than that. There must be some good to be attained that impels the distant pilgrim––distance, of course, is a relative term––to undertake the journey from there to here. Whatever it was that made the site holy in the first place, it still possesses some residual quality that induces the believer to undertake the journey, often long, often arduous, to come to the holy place. A preliminary and rather obvious distinction warns us not to proceed too quickly with the notion of attraction as the unique operating principle in pilgrimage. The Muslim sorting of such acts into hajj, pilgrimage as a ritual requirement, and ziyâra, pilgrimage as a pious visit, quickly reminds us that some pilgrimages are voluntary, where the notion of attraction may in fact be operative, and some pilgrimages are obligatory—that is, the believer must perform the act: he is being pushed, not pulled, to the holy place. These latter acts, what may be called juridical pilgrimages, are no small matter. At some point before the redaction of Deuteronomy, Jewish pilgrimage on the three great holy days became just such an obligation, and moreover, was directed to this place (maqom), to the exclusion of all other places (Deut 12:5–14). So too was the hajj to Mecca, and this on the authority of the Quran itself (Q. 22:26–30). Even Christianity knows this phenomenon of the obligatory pilgrimage. Pilgrimage to the Holy Land was not uncommonly assigned by medieval confessors as a penance in remission of the temporal punishment connected with homicide. Nothing is attracting the Christian felon. He is being unceremoniously pushed, slouching, toward Jerusalem. But we should not be misled. All three of these cases represent interventions. An authority, the Jewish priesthood or the Jewish king, the Prophet Muhammad, the Church, has for its own purposes converted––or perhaps subverted––a voluntary reaction to the holy place into an obligation. Surely the Israelites were drawn to make hag to Jerusalem––and earlier to a variety of other places 12––before they were pushed there by the 12th chapter of Deuteronomy. We know it is true in the Meccan case: both the hajj and the ʿumra were popular festivals in Mecca before Muhammad intervened and converted one into an obligation and the other––the more Meccan of the two, oddly––into a work of supererogation. 13 And finally, there were likely far more voluntary pilgrims than homicides embarking at Jaffa en route to Jerusalem. 12.  There was hag dancing in the vineyards of Shiloh before the more sacerdotally controlled ritual was transferred to Jerusalem; see Judg 21:19–21. 13.  I have treated both pre-Islamic festivals in Peters 1994: 31–38.

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So even in the obligatory pilgrimage there remains the residual attraction of the holy place that draws the pilgrim hither. The modest view I earlier enunciated, that the holy place enjoys an inherent holiness that attracts the pilgrim to it, has recently been criticized as being too essentialist (Eade and Sallnow 1991: 9–10). To put it another way, the push-pull debate regarding pilgrimage is by no means over. It continues, in a far more interesting form, among the proponents of the intrinsic holiness of certain places. It is the inherent holiness of Jerusalem that converts the believer into a pilgrim and draws him or her here. Therefore, those who maintain, on the contrary, that a holy place is really a holy space, an invitingly empty theater to which the pilgrim resorts to perform a ritual which, as J. Z. Smith argues, “organizes, institutionalizes and elaborates memory” (1987: 291). It is the pilgrims’ memory we are speaking of here, either individually or collectively. On this deconstructionist model, neither Jerusalem nor any other place has any claim to the kind of intrinsic holiness that the rabbis were fond of ascribing to it. In other words, it is the construct of the holy city, the imagined Jerusalem, that impels the pilgrim hither. The construct notion arises in another, related context. Victor and Edith Turner had not long ago convinced many people that pilgrimage––their evidence, as is well known, derived chiefly from Christian pilgrimage (cf. Idinopulos 1996: 9–20; V. Turner and E. Turner 1978)––was a powerful force toward the realization of communitas. The pilgrim loses the hierarchical status that he or she enjoyed at home and is submerged in a new, if transient, society that is all-inclusive and essentially egalitarian. The history of pilgrimage both affirms and denies the Turner thesis, of course. For all the general weeping and prostration provoked by the first sight of the walls of Jerusalem, all the fervent Turnerian cries of “Labbayka, Alhahumma, labbayka” on the outskirts of Mecca, the Frenchman and the German will continue to fight, even on pilgrimage, and a fortiori Catholics and Protestants, while Sunnis and Shiʿites will not cease mixing it up even in the shadow of the Kaʿba. And the same pilgrim who can feel communitas in every one of his mortal bones in the Valley of Jehoshaphat may shiver with hostility across the carefully calibrated sectarian enclaves within the Church of the Holy Sepulchre. Instead of being a unifying experience on the Turner model, the pilgrimage is now seen as predominantly “an arena for competing religious and secular discourse, . . . for conflict between orthodoxies, sects and confessional groups, for drives toward consensus and communities and for counter-movements toward separateness and division” (Eade and Sallnow 1991:2). Nowhere is that claim more clearly illustrated than in Jerusalem. Consider. Shrines and holy cities draw pilgrims from a more or less extended field or catchment area, what I have elsewhere called a pilgrimage network (Peters 1986: 27–59). There are variables in these networks, of course. First and most obvious is its size, not merely its geographical extent but also in the number of people who constitute the network community. Thus, no matter how widespread the Jewish Diaspora, the numbers involved are miniscule compared to those of the Muslims who might be drawn to Mecca. But sheer numbers are not the only factor. There is the physical ease of approach, and, more psychologically,

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what we might call easiness. There are far more Christians in the world than Jews, and so far more potential Christian than Jewish pilgrims to holy Jerusalem. Yet, since 1967, far more Jews than Christians have visited the city. Have Christians lost interest? Possibly. Does Jewish sovereignty over what is also a Christian holy land make some Christians uneasy? Quite possibly. It certainly made the Vatican uneasy (Hecht 1994: 183). Pilgrimage, it is clear, is in the head as well as in the heart. In many instances, the pilgrimage field or network is characterized by a single, or at least a predominant, culture. But Judaism, Christianity, and Islam are all transcultural religions, and their catchment areas have been, from a very early date, most of the known world. Thus, there are attracted to Jerusalem multitudes who, whatever their religious beliefs, differ in dress, language, and culture. Mecca attracts almost equally diverse clients, but at Mecca they are all put through a uniform ritual experience that smoothes and conceals the cultural differences. 14 As a result, a pilgrimage to Mecca is far more likely than a visit to Jerusalem, which knows no such singularity of ritual, to emerge as an ecumenical experience. But the heightened differences, the clash of the pilgrims’ expectations with those of others and with reality, are not all the result of pilgrimage; their causes are present much earlier. Jews, Christians, and Muslims come to Jerusalem because there is holiness there. That holiness is grounded in texts and history, but it is more precisely fashioned by the pilgrim’s own anticipations. In short, the pilgrim comes to a place that has already taken imaginative shape and affective form even before he or she sets foot across the threshold. It is created out of songs sung, stories told, travelers’ tales, preachers’ homilies, scriptural illustrations in books, on church windows and walls, postcards, slides, and movies. These resonances of the holy city, the jingles, images, and slogans swirl in the pilgrim’s head even before departure. The pilgrims’ thoughts may be of Scripture, of holy events, and sainted heroes, but there are often more secular ingredients as well. One of the most spectacular pilgrimages to Jerusalem, the one we call the Crusade, went forth from Clermont with the ringing cry “Deus lo vult,” but with its armored head filled with impelling images of Jerusalem in the hands of bloody and defiling infidels. Many Jews go to Jerusalem to approach the presence of God at the Western Wall, but their imaginations may be filled as well with the images of Israeli soldiers singing and weeping and praying at that same wall in the tumultuous days of June 1967. Nor are the Muslims immune to the appeal of a political Jerusalem. The Dome of the Rock is a holy place, but it is also a symbol, and its depiction on Muslim walls throughout the Middle East linked with its sister holy cities of Mecca and Medina is an unmistakable appeal for its return, not to Muslim possession, where it already rests, after a fashion, but to full Muslim control. It is a synecdoche: The Dome is Jerusalem and Jerusalem is the Dome. And for many, Jerusalem is Islam. But let us not lose heart. In the midst of the apparently accidental variety of perceptions that pilgrims, even whole congregations of pilgrims, bring to a holy place like Jerusalem, there is a perduring center that informs the group understand14.  And the ritual is native to none of them. Each pilgrim has to be guided through the hajj liturgy; see Peters 1994: 284–85, 341–42.

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ing of the holy place. In the case of Jerusalem, this center is constituted in the first place by the received scriptural texts that describe the ground of the city’s holiness and the exegetical texts that enlarge it. It is precisely the affirmation of the givens of those primary texts that separates the pilgrim from the visitor: the first comes to participate in the holiness described and localized in Scripture; the second to inspect its setting. The Bible, as noted, may be read in many ways, as a biography of God, as J. Miles has so brilliantly done (1995), as a Zionist charter, or as a handbook on holiness and its transformation into holy places with their own shrines. The Bible’s Jerusalem bias prevents it from being entirely forthcoming on the subject of shrines, the odious Canaanite ones or even the earlier Israelite holy places––the sites, as we have noted, of local pilgrimages––that were unceremoniously closed down and their wardens swept out of business or into Jerusalem by King Josiah in the 620s b.c.e. Josiah, like David and Solomon before him and Herod and countless others after him, shows the effects of sovereignty upon holy places, and so upon pilgrimage. All three communities of Jews, Christians, and Muslims have had their serial share of sovereignty in this city, 15 or, to be somewhat more accurate, states that professed to represent in some form those religious communities. Sovereignty may be glorious or impressive or grandiose, but it is rarely a pretty thing, particularly in Jerusalem, where for a very long time it has meant, in theory, possession and control of the monotheistic Holy Places. When the Crusaders took the city in 1099, they immediately converted the Muslim Dome of the Rock into a church and the Al-Aqsa mosque first into a royal palace and then into the headquarters and armory of their elite troops, the Knights Templars. In 1187, Salah al-Din promptly and ostentatiously converted them right back to Muslim use and turned that Crusader jewel, the church of St. Anne, into a mosque and its adjoining convent into a Shaficite law school, just to let the Fatimid Ismaʿilis know that this jihâd was not just against the Franks. In the 14th century, when the Jews and Latin Christians were contesting possession of the Tomb of David on Mount Zion, the Sultan decided that the most satisfactory solution was to put it in Muslim hands (Peters 1985: 423–24, 498–99). David, needless to say, is venerated by Jews, Christians, and Muslims alike. So is Abraham, whose tomb is in Hebron, where, since the 1920s, the violence of contested possession is only a trigger-touch away. Possession and proprietorship are complex notions in Jerusalem. Many of the Christian religious communities like the Franciscans have simply purchased the land on which their holy places are located. Thus they are under Israeli sovereignty but are somewhat shielded from interference by the fact that they are private property. Other properties are Vatican owned, and so, in a sense, the extra-territorial possessions of a sovereign state. Again, in 1967, shortly after the Israeli occupation of the Old City, Moshe Dayan, then the Israeli Minister of Defense, almost unilaterally 15.  Contrast that, if you will, with the history of Rome, where a Christian polity, if we are to consider the Italians as Christians, as the Vatican sometimes does, has been in uninterrupted political control since the 4th century, or that of Mecca, which has never had any political masters save Muslim ones.

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declared that the Temple Mount was the possession of the Muslim people, an act which had no legal corporate recipient, though as a matter of fact Jordan has acted as the agent of the “Muslim people” over the years. At the same time, he declared that the area adjoining the Western Wall of the Temple Mount, which by then had become the chief Jewish holy place of the city, 16 was the property of the State of Israel. This act had two effects. It immediately triggered a dispute among Israelis as to whether this particular piece of real estate should be declared a holy place and so subject to Jewish religious law, or a historical site, and so an appropriate as well as an inviting place for archeological investigation. The rabbis won this one: the site was leveled, paved over, and converted into a synagogue, while the archeologists looked on, leaning impotently and disconsolately on their shovels. 17 But in clearing away the mean dwellings that until June of 1967 pushed up to within a few feet of the Western Wall of the Temple Mount, the Israel Ministry of Religious Affairs exposed another aspect of ownership and sanctity in Jerusalem. The destroyed buildings constituted a waqf, or a Muslim religious endowment. Places are holy for a number of reasons. 18 They are the site of epiphanies, for example, divine self-manifestations, as was likely the grounds for the original construction of the Temple or the enshrinement of Abraham’s oak near Hebron. Or else some event of deep religious significance took place there, as in the case of the churches built to commemorate Gospel events in the life of Jesus, or those on the Temple Mount associated with Muhammad’s Night Journey. Or by reason of the tomb of a holy person, be it Jesus’ or David’s in Jerusalem, or the biblical patriarchs’ at Hebron, or Rabbi Meir’s or Maimonides’ in Tiberias, or of one of the medieval Kabbalists in Safed. Again, a place might be holy for the reason that the building there is used for some liturgical or other religious purpose, a point of view that would make every synagogue, yeshiva, church, convent, mosque and madrasa in Jerusalem a holy place. And finally, a place might be thought holy if simply protected by religious law, which brings us once again to the matter of the Muslim waqf. 19 Holy places, it has been argued more generally, have no reality beyond the sacred texts that make the place important (Bowman 1991: 120). 20 This argument was made precisely in connection with Christian Jerusalem in particular, since no city has such a congeries of texts clustered about it, foundation texts in the Scriptures, Old and New Testaments alike, and experiential texts in the pilgrims’ travel literature. But as the reality of those latter pilgrim accounts quickly reveals, neither the 16.  For the earlier history of this site, see Peters 1985: 527–29 and Benvenisti 1976: 64–77. 17.  The events are dramatically described in Benvenisti 1976: 305–22. 18.  I have explored the issue of the Jerusalem holy places (1996: 37–59). For a highly skeptical view of their authenticity, see Taylor 1993. 19. A waqf is a religious endowment made in the contractual terms of Islamic law and guaranteed by that law. It hands over the ownership of property to God and the income from that property to some pious project, like the construction of a mosque. It is inalienable in perpetuity, and like historical landmark laws and national parks legislation, it is rich in mischief. Jerusalem is now filled with juridical holy places, buildings whose sanctity has been conferred by statute or contract, and in the case of Muslim waqf properties, contracts that cannot be renegotiated and statutes that cannot be amended. 20.  See the three splendid recent studies on the “image” of Jerusalem among Jews (Dan 1996: 60–73), Christians (Fredricksen, 1996: 74–92), and Muslims (Neuwirth 1996: 93–116).

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foundational texts which the pilgrims shared in common, nor indeed the actual city which they all experienced, could guarantee that there was a single pilgrim Jerusalem (Bowman 1996: 98–99). There were, and are, for Christians many Jerusalems—Catholic, Protestant, and Orthodox, the Jerusalem of the pious and of the skeptic, of the pilgrim and the tourist. Jerusalem is undoubtedly holy, but it is also undoubtedly a construct, whose private and individual dimensions shape the pilgrims’ expectations and purpose, realized or disappointed. The beginnings of Christian pilgrimage to Palestine is a contested topic, 21 but whatever its origins, within two centuries of Constantine’s initiatives, Jerusalem had been converted architecturally and demographically into a Christian city. More importantly, it was converted, imaginatively, into a Christian Holy City and Palestine into a Christian Holy Land. 22 Not in any transcendental sense, surely; nor even in a ritual or legal sense, as the contemporary rabbis understood it. But as a network of holy places, with Jerusalem’s holy places at its center, since there the drama had come to its conclusion. And it was done, it should be noted, not in the face of Jewish claims to that land or that city, claims that would have appeared ludicrous at that moment in history, but to effect the extirpation of paganism. In Constantine’s century, the Jews crept piteously into Jerusalem once a year and bemoaned the destruction of their Temple, 23 still after three centuries a pile of rubble. Jerome, who witnessed the sight, thought it no more than just. They had, after all, crucified the Lord. Christians had many reasons for coming to Jerusalem, but most of them boil down to some form of what might be called topographical sanctification. 24 I use the term simply to distinguish it from the Jewish sense of territorial holiness, the sanctification of the entire land, and Jerusalem, all of Jerusalem, within it. The premise of Christianity, at least vis à vis the Jews, is that it is the True Israel, and as such it might have been expected that at some point it would lay claim to the land promised to Abraham. But, like the Muslims, they did not. The reasons for their disinterest are complex, but basic to almost all of them is the Christians’ de‑historicization 21.  The issue is addressed throughout Taylor 1993. 22.  The most detailed and authoritative presentation is by Wilken 1995: 82–100. Cf. Taylor 1993: 329–30: “Byzantine Christians appear to have embarked on a campaign to mark Palestine as a land with a Christian character. Before Constantine, Palestine was not a Christian “holy land,” though in an attempt to discourage emigration, certain rabbis had sought to inspire Jews with the idea that the promised land was sanctified by God in some vague way (cf. b. Ketub. 110b–11a; m. Kelim 1:6). It may well have been Constantine who first recognized that Palestine could be converted into an entire region of holiness (see Telfer 1955). Again, the concept is rooted in the ideology of pagan epiphany which was adapted to fit Christian circumstances. . . . The idea would not become firmly established until the 5th century, in the heyday of Palestinian monasticism, when Jerusalem had become a Christian capital ( John Cassian, Collationes 14.8) Monks and nuns living in Palestinian deserts then spoke of themselves as “inhabitants of this holy land. . . .” 23.  This is Jerome’s testimony (Peters 1985: 144–45), but the archeological evidence testifies to some permanent Jewish presence in the city during the Byzantine era; see Eliav 2005. 24.  See Smith 1987: 76, 79, and Taylor 1993: 331: “Christian pilgrimage to the holy places was a radical innovation, a combination of an ancient story set in one particular landscape and the newly Christianized veneration of sites and things. It fused together diverse elements found in Jewish and Samaritan tradition with pagan piety, and became something more significant than the mere sum of its parts. . . .”

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of Jewish history. They did not, of course, deny that it had occurred; they did, however, insist that its importance was quite other: the events of Jewish history were read typologically. The same de-historicization and devalorization can be observed in connection with Jerusalem. As already noted, Paul’s famous allegory in Galatians sets the tone, and the Roman destruction of the city some twenty years later merely underlined it: the earthly city, the one that now lay in ruins, was the Jewish legacy; the Christian Jerusalem was only a heavenly city. 25 The Christian holy land, then, in sharp contrast to its Jewish prototype, is essentially what I have just called a network of holy places, which is why Christian pilgrimage so often gives the impression of a tour, which in fact it was. This Christian “holy land” stretches from Damascus, where one could visit the place where Paul was hauled onto the city wall, to Cairo, where the home of the Holy Family was open to visitors and where, with good connections and a great many ducats, one might purchase an intact relic of one of the Holy Innocents slaughtered by Herod. 26 We have many accounts of these tours, with many interesting details about the nature of pilgrimage, but I shall remark on only one illuminating moment. It occurred almost as soon as the weary and already frightened pilgrims disembarked at Jaffa. Their identity papers were checked and then they were read the riot act by the Franciscan Custos Sanctae Terrae—the Franciscans had by then a papally certified monopoly over all the Latin Holy Places and Western pilgrims. It was a grim story. We are hostages for your behavior, the Custos began. If you behave and are lucky, you may get home. We live here. There followed a list of don’ts that make the Book of Leviticus sound like a hymn to permissiveness (Peters 1985: 427–31). The point was clear: you are in danger from the Muslims; behave yourself. The actual dangers may have been overstated. Apart from the ordinary cultural hassle, the only real danger to the pilgrims came from Bedouin, who were prepared to prey upon everyone, Christian and Muslim alike. But the hostility was real. The pilgrims were simultaneously bilked and cursed, overcharged and underfed, and finally hounded and herded into the Church of the Holy Sepulchre where the visitors were locked inside for three days so they could get their full dose of Christian sanctity (Peters 1985: 437–49). Why did the Christians keep coming? In part, it was expectation. A holy place is, as we have seen, to a large extent a construct pieced together at home. Many expected something better—even, in the face of all the contrary evidence, a land of milk and honey—or at least different. In part, too, it was simple piety. One concrete form of this piety driving Christians was the matter of indulgences. The Church, as the warden of the merits accruing from the redemptive death of Jesus, attached these merits, relief from the temporal punishment due to sin, to the performance of certain acts, notable among them visits to the Holy Places. Pilgrims collected indulgences at almost every step across Jerusalem, little different in fact from the Muslim who could acquire barakât, “blessings,” from his own visits to his Holy Places.

25.  For the earliest Christian meditations on this theme, see Wilken 1995: 65–81. 26.  A transaction that normally took place in Cairo; see Peters 1985: 448.

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Indulgences too, illustrate the construct quality of holy places. The indulgences connected with primary holy sites, like the Christian “stations” of the Jerusalem liturgy, can be transferred to other places which are deemed equally holy—the indulgences are equal—by simple fiat, to the “station churches” of Rome, for example, or, even more tellingly, to literal holy place constructs, European sites that were built to resemble Holy Land sites. The first of these was the imaginative scale model built by the Franciscan B. Caimi in 1486 at Varallo in Piedmont Italy, where the chapels housed representations of actual Holy Land sites. Fr. Caimi, who had been Custos in Jerusalem, anticipated that the Ottomans would soon take over Palestine––as they did in 1517––and prohibit access to Latin Christians, which they did not. Varallo was the first of a spectacular series of what can only be called Holy Land theme parks, a series that came to a rather dispirited end with Holyland USA, a real theme park, now minus the indulgences, built at Waterbury, Connecticut, in 1958. 27 Another and perhaps more familiar example. An informal, stational ritual along Jesus’ route across Jerusalem from Pilate’s Pretorium to Golgotha, made the socalled Via Dolorosa holy, a kind of customary holiness. Piety upgraded it by attaching indulgences to the performance of these rituals in these places. But after a later papal ban on visits to the Middle East––pilgrimages were not to be conducted without specific permission of the Holy See––the indulgences attached to visits to the Middle Eastern holy places were transferred wholesale to European churches, a process that also included the “miniaturization” of the “Stations of the Cross” within Western Christian churches (Peters 1985: 501–3). Thus, in and around these various Jerusalem holy places flowed the great stream of tourists and pilgrims, that is, visitors with secular or religious intent. Since the mid-19th century, when the presence of a European consulate and a European hotel began to transform Jerusalem into a place that might simply be visited, it is almost impossible to separate the tourist from the pilgrim. 28 Mixed motives are not a 19th-century phenomenon, of course, and a historical curiosity is identifiable among Christian pilgrims almost from the beginning. In the 15th and 16th centuries, there was a new awareness and appreciation of the historical resonances of the Holy Land (Peters 1985: 515–19), and when the first Protestants began arriving in the city in the 17th century, they brought with them not only a disdain for the indulgences with which the Catholic Church had garlanded visits to the Holy Places, but a new incredulity about miracles and thus doubts about the Holy Places themselves. The Reformation taught many Christians to be skeptical of saints, relics, and shrines and eventually took the wind out of pilgrim sails, though at the same time, the Protestant emphasis on Scripture, literal Scripture, put the first slight billow in the topsails of a later generation of archeologists and scriptural experts. As G. Bowman has pointed out, for both historical and theological reasons, and eventually some esthetic ones as well, Protestant devotions in the Holy Land have kept their distance from the traditional holy sites revered by the Eastern Orthodox 27.  The subject is explored at length in Wharton 2006. 28.  I am here lumping under “tourist” what a more careful analysis would distinguish into “traveler” and “tourist”; see Fussel 1980: 37–41.

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and the Latin Catholics. Protestants came late to the Holy Land and claims of the more well- established churches to significant holy places, canonized by the Ottoman firman of 1852, were firmly established and well monumentalized. Furthermore, the Protestant desire to have an unmediated relation to the Bible means that a holy place covered over with Orthodox or Catholic churches is, in effect, a site that commemorates institutional domination rather than the truth which that institution has usurped and distorted. Protestants prefer “to witness Christ himself and not across his putative agents,” and so made their way to places like the area around the Sea of Galilee or the attractive but highly inauthentic Garden Tomb in Jerusalem where they might conjure up Christ in a more meditative setting than the incense-filled monuments thrown up by 2,000 years of devotion to his memory (Bowman 1991: 116). I have already referred to the Jewish pilgrimage obligation. With the Roman destruction of the Temple in 70 c.e. and the consequent inability to offer sacrifice in that place, the hag obligation as such ceased. Jews were formally banned from Jerusalem sometime after 132 c.e. and, though there were, as we have seen, apparently some Jews living in the city and the occasional surreptitious visitor during the period of Christian sovereignty, Jews did not formally return to Jerusalem until they were permitted by the Muslims after the latter’s conquest of the city. Sacrifices were not resumed, of course, since the Temple was not rebuilt. The Muslims symbolically expropriated the Temple Mount, now called “The Noble Sanctuary,” al-Haram al-Sharif, and though Jews may at times have been permitted to pray within its precincts (Peters 1985: 193–94), generally both they and the Muslims preferred they did not. Thenceforward, there was in Jerusalem both a permanent Jewish settlement, 29 which sought to sustain itself by both immigration––aliya, literally “going up,” as is always said of a visit to Jerusalem––and by contributions from abroad, as well as an annual trickle of visitors. Jewish groups in Jerusalem, residents, and visitors, participated in what appears to have been a developing Jewish liturgy centered not on the Temple Mount but on the Mount of Olives and which included a circumambulation (Peters 1985: 234, 603 nn. 31, 32). 30 These Jewish visitors to Jerusalem were pilgrims in the broad rather than the technical sense of the term: like the Christians, they were making a pious visit to the city rather than fulfilling the biblical obligation to make hag. Perhaps brief note should be taken here of another aspect of pilgrimage, that of the pilgrim who does not return home. I am not referring to those who go to the holy city with the intention of dying there or who simply do die there, a not inconsiderable number, one imagines, given the pre-modern arduousness of the journey and the relatively advanced age of those who undertake it. I have in mind a quite different group. Throughout the medieval Muslim travel accounts of the 29.  Actually, two Jewish communities, since the schism between Rabbanites and Karaites that began in Iraq was soon imported into the Holy City: Peters 1985: 229–32, 276–77; texts on early Jewish fund raising and immigration are reproduced (1985: 232–34, 524–27, 529–34). 30.  Earlier, the Christians, too, before Constantine enshrined the Holy Sepulchre with a cathedral and centered their liturgy on the Mount of Olives (Eusebius, Demonstratio Evangelica 6.18, and cf. Taylor 1993: 152–54).

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great mosques of the Islamic world, note is invariably taken of men called ‘sojourners’ (mujawwirûn). The “sojourners” were those who settled, for a longer or shorter period, into a famous or venerable mosque, for study, perhaps, or simply for the edifying atmosphere. There were a great many of these more or less permanent pilgrims at Mecca, Medina, and Jerusalem, some of them given over to the somewhat eccentric behavior reserved for the truly holy. Some lived on public alms, but others in Jerusalem lived for longer or shorter periods of time in the convents and laws schools that were built from the 13th century onward along the northern and western edges of Herod’s temple platform. 31 One of the most famous of the lodgers was al-Ghazali, the celebrated Baghdad lawyer-philosopher who is also our most eminent pilgrimage theologian; in his Ihyâ culûm al-dîn he attempts to substitute for an ex opere operato approach, one based on intention (nihâya). In Christian theological discussions, on the other hand, pilgrimage tends to get subsumed into sacramental theology—where it is a “sacramental” rather than a full blown sacrament—and into a discussion of indulgences. 32 What is important here is that al-Ghazali may have been a pious sojourner but he also was on the lam and lived for a time holed up in tiny quarters in a convent built atop the Golden Gate. When Ghazali looked out his window, he saw before him the primary Muslim holy place in Jerusalem, the Dome of the Rock. The Dome of the Rock that sits atop the Haram al-Sharif is one of the great mysteries of Islam. It is not a mosque but a shrine, a very large and elaborate shrine. But unlike almost all of the other Muslim qubbas, or domed shrines, that we know of, the Dome of the Rock does not enshrine the remains of a saint—or Muhammad himself, as does the largest of them, at Medina—but rather a rock, an otherwise unremarkable outcropping on the surface of the Temple Mount. It may very well have been thought to have been somehow connected with the Jewish Temple there, or perhaps the stone of Abraham’s sacrifice, but why it was built or isolated remains a mystery (Elad 1992: 33–58). One theory put forward by the Muslim sources and adopted by some Western historians is that the Caliph Abd al-Malik, who completed the building in 692 c.e., had in mind to divert the hajj from Mecca, which was then in rebellion against his authority, to Jerusalem (Peters 1995: 197–99, 601 nn. 21–22.) This is possible, though not very convincing, but it did not, in any event, succeed. Though there was a certain amount of friendly jostling for the primacy of holiness among Mecca, Medina, and Jerusalem (Peters 1995: 336–40), it was chiefly a rhetorical exercise, and there is no evidence that any substantial numbers of Muslims took it seriously enough to act upon it: Mecca was and is the premier holy place in Islam and the only one in which one may fulfill one’s pilgrimage obligation. This is not to say that Muslims did not visit Jerusalem. It is simply that we do not know a great deal about them, at least when compared to others’ visits to the city. Jews and Christians have left detailed personal accounts of their spiritual journeys 31.  See n. 2 above. 32.  The similarities and differences are illustrated in the travel accounts of the Dominican Felix Fabri (Peters 1995: 444–49) and the Spanish Muslim Ibn Jubayr (Peters 1994: 109–43).

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to Jerusalem, as Muslims have of their hajj to Mecca. But for Muslim accounts of Jerusalem, we have to turn primarily to geographers, historians, and, most notably for our purpose, travelers. A word about Muslim travel literature. For most of its history, Islam has been a society in motion. Countless men and women set out on the road for either of two peculiarly Muslim motives: the search for knowledge or the religious obligation to make the pilgrimage to Mecca. The generic name of the literary genre describing this activity is “The Book of Travel” or, perhaps simply, “The Journey” (al-rihla). It originally described the roving search for religious knowledge. This generally took the form of visits to persons who had reports (hadîth) going back to the Prophet Muhammad or his contemporaries. In time, this type of knowledge was chiefly found institutionalized in the teaching chairs of the law schools that covered the face of the Islamic world from the 11th century onward (Gellens 1990: 53). At that point, rihla had come to mean a description of visit to places, famous law schools, for example, as often in Ibn Battuta, and eventually the term broadened out to include descriptions of all forms of travel, with the more specific rihla hijaziyya, a “Hajj Journey,” reserved for a description of a trip to Mecca (ElMoudden 1990: 70, 73), an enterprise that in the 14th century might have taken a couple of years; in the 19th, a couple of weeks; and now, a matter of days. Many of those travelers at least passed by Jerusalem, as we shall see, en route to other places. But Jerusalem as such has also exercised its own attraction to Muslims, not on such a broad scale as the Meccan hajj, certainly, but strongly enough to catch the attention of at least some reporters. Nasir-i Khusraw, for example, who was in the city in 1047, reported that thousands of people from all the ends of the earth go to Jerusalem, chiefly to be buried there, he notes. There is no surprise in this, given the eschatological associations connected with Jerusalem in all three faiths. What is surprising is his further information that people who were unable to make the hajj performed the “standing” of Arafat and the sacrifice of Mina on the Haram al-Sharif, and at least one author condemned as “innovation” the notion that four such annual celebrations was the equivalent to an actual Meccan hajj (Duri 1982: 354 cites similar reports from both earlier and later times; and see Elad 1995: 51–77). There are, however, few if any formal accounts of Muslim visits to Jerusalem as such. Many if not most Muslim visitors to Jerusalem in pre-modern times went there as a leg on their more explicit hajj to Mecca, much as Jerusalem-bound Christians made side-visits to Sinai or Damascus. But not all routes to Mecca pass by Jerusalem. Hajjis en route from Cairo, or Baghdad, or the Yemen, three of the great marshalling points for the Meccan caravans, bypassed Jerusalem by a wide margin, and it was only the Damascus caravan that occasionally permitted to the pilgrims a side voyage to Jerusalem, 33 none of them very well documented. Did the Muslims perform any liturgy at Jerusalem? None is prescribed by Islamic law, which does not much care about ziyaras. In fact, Muslim law, like Jewish law, has little sympathy for visits to tombs. But it appears, as A. Elad has recently dem33.  The main caravan route from Damascus to Medina passed well east of Jerusalem, through Ayn Zarqa, Balqa, and Qatrana in the Transjordan.

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onstrated, that there was a kind of liturgy atop the Haram al-Sharif, and that it was, in the manner of the earliest Christian liturgies in Jerusalem, and the later Way of the Cross, stational, that is, the visitor proceeded from one holy place to another in a set order (Elad 1995: 68–78; cf. Peters 1995: 374–75). And since it was informal, it also suffered abuses. The chief evidence for these comes from a purist, al-Qashashi (d. 1660), who disapproved of almost everything he saw there. He notes that on “The Days of the Pilgrims,” probably the days when the Mecca-bound hajjis were in the city, there is a festival in the Haram al-Sharif, accompanied by a great deal of buying and selling and the most shameless mingling of sexes. More interestingly, at the occasion of the “Standing at Arafat” on the 9th of Dhu al-Hijja, there was a parallel ceremony in which a sermon was delivered from atop the Dome of the Rock, as if that itself were Mount Arafat. Qashashi was appalled (Peters 1995: 496–97). There is doubtless more along this line, but it still remains to be uncovered and studied. Jerusalem was and remains our most extraordinary laboratory for the study of pilgrimage, past and present. Every note on the pilgrim’s scale, every band in the pilgrimage spectrum is echoed and reflected within these narrow Ottoman walls. And the subject is alive: Today’s Jerusalem pilgrimage is not yesterday’s, nor will it be tomorrow’s. We cannot even envision tomorrow’s pilgrimages to Jerusalem, whether there will be prayer or slaughter there, whether there will be a Jewish temple or a Muslim shrine atop the Haram al-Sharif, whether Israeli or Palestinian police will patrol those turbulent streets. The only thing of which we can be certain is that Jerusalem will still be a city, and still holy, and still contentious, even if, as the wise Salah al-Din once put it, “the earth itself were dug up and thrown into the sky.”

References Adang, C. P. 2007 s.v. “Torah.”, Encyclopaedia of the Qur’ān, ed. J. D. McAuliffe. Leiden: Brill. Benvenisti, M. 1976 Jerusalem, The Torn City. Jerusalem: Isratypset Ltd. Bowman, G. 1991 Christian Ideology and the Image of a Holy Land: The Place of Jerusalem Pilgrimage in Various Christianities. P. 120 in Contesting the Sacred: The Anthropology of Christian Pilgrimage, ed. J. Eade and M. J. Sallnow. New York: Routledge. Dan, J. 1996 Jerusalem in Jewish Spirituality, Pp. 60–73 in The City of the Great King, ed. N. Ro­ sov­sky. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press. Drory, J. 1981 Jerusalem in the Mamluk Period. Pp. 190–214 in vol. 1 of The Jerusalem Cathedra, ed. L. Levine. Jerusalem: Yad Izhak ben-Zvi. Duri, A. 1982 Bait al-Maqdis in Islam. P. 354 in vol. I of Studies in the History and Archaeology of Jordan, ed. A. Hadidi. Amman: Royal Jordanian University. Eade, J., and Sallnow M. J., eds. 1991 Contesting the Sacred: The Anthropology of Christian Pilgrimage. New York: Routledge.

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Elad, A. 1992 Why Did Abd al-Malik Build the Dome of the Rock? A Re-Examination of the Muslim Sources. Pp. 33–58 in Part 1 of Bayt al-Maqdis. Abd al-Malik’s Jerusalem, ed. J. Raby and J. Johns. Oxford: Oxford University Press. 1995 Medieval Jerusalem and Islamic Worship: Holy Places, Ceremonies and Pilgrimages Leiden: Brill. Eliav, Y. 2005 God’s Mountain: The Temple Mount in Time, Place, and Memory. Baltimore: Johns Hopkins University Press. El Moudden, A. 1990 The Ambivalence of rihla: Community Integration and Self-Definition in Moroccan Travel Accounts, 1300–1800. Pp 69–84 in Muslim Travellers: Pilgrimage, Migration and the Religious Imagination, ed. D. Eickelman and J. Piscatori. Berkeley: University of California Press. Fredricksen, P. 1996 The Holy City in Christian Thought, Pp. 77–92 in The City of the Great King, ed. N. Ro­sovsky. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press. Fussel, P. 1980 Abroad Traveling between the Wars. New York / Oxford: British Library. Gaudeul, J. M., and Caspar, R. 1980 Textes de la tradition musulmane concernant le tahrīf (falsification) des écritures. Islamochristiana 6: 61–104. Gellens, S. I. 1990 The Search for Knowledge in Medieval Muslim Societies: A Comparative Approach. Pp. 50-58 in Muslim Travellers: Pilgrimage, Migration and the Religious Imagination, ed. D. Eickelman and J. Piscatori: Berkeley: University of California Press. Goldhill, S. 2005 The Temple of Jerusalem. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press. Grabar, O. 1996 The Shape of the Holy: Early Islamic Jerusalem. Princeton: Princeton University Press. Gutmann, J. 1976 The Temple of Solomon. Missoula: Scholars Press. Hecht, R. 1994 The Construction and Management of Sacred Time and Space: The Sabta Nur in the Church of the Holy Sepulchre. Pp. 181–235 in NowHere: Space, Time and Modernity, ed. R. Friedland and D. Boden. Berkeley: University of California Press. Idinopulos, T. A 1996 Sacred Space and Profane Power: Victor Turner and the Perspective of Holy Land Pilgrimage. Pp. 9–20 in Pilgrims and Travelers to the Holy Land, ed. B. F. Le Beau and M. Mor. Omaha: Creighton University Press. Kenyon, K. 1974 Digging Up Jerusalem. London: Benns. Lazarus-Yefeh, H. 1992 Intertwined Worlds. Princeton: Princeton University Press. Miles, J. 1995 God, A Biography. New York: Alfred A. Knopf. Neuwirth, A. 1996 The Spiritual Meaning of Jerusalem in Islam. Pp. 93–116 in The City of the Great King, ed. N. Rosovsky. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press.

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Peters, F. 1985 Jerusalem: The Holy City in the Eyes of Chroniclers, Visitors, Pilgrims and Prophets from the Days of Abraham to the Beginning of Modern Times. Princeton: Princeton University Press. 1987 Mecca and Jerusalem: The Typology of the Holy City in the Near East. New York: AMS Press. 1995 The Hajj. Princeton: Princeton University Press. 1996 The Holy Places. Pp. 37–59 in The City of the Great King, ed. N. Rosovsky. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press. Robinson, N. 1991 Christ in Islam and Christianity. Albany: SUNY Press. Rubin, M. Levy, and Rubin, R. 1996 The Image of the Holy City in Maps and Mapping. Pp. 352–79 in City of the Great King, ed. N. Rosovsky. Cambridge MA: Harvard University Press. Smith, J. Z. 1987 To Take Place: Toward Theory in Ritual. Chicago: University of Chicago Press. Taylor, J. E. 1993 Christians and the Holy Places: The Myth of Jewish-Christian Origins. New York: Oxford University Press. Turner, V., and Turner, E. 1987 Image and Pilgrimage in Christian Culture: Anthropological Perspectives. New York: Columbia University Press. Watt, W. M. 1990 Early Islam. Edinburgh: Edinburgh University Press. Wharton, A. J. 2006 Selling Jerusalem: Relics, Replicas, Theme Parks. Chicago: University of Chicago Press. Wilken, R. L. 1995 The Land Called Holy: Palestine in Christian History and Thought. New Haven: Yale University Press.

British Archaeological Work in Jerusalem between 1865 and 1967: An Assessment Shimon Gibson

University of North Carolina at Charlotte

Jerusalem, above all places, was the city that needed excavation; from its great antiquity, it carried within its ruins traces of ages and generations further back than any city in the world; it had been seventeen times captured and destroyed, so that it was literally a series of masses of ruins heaped one upon another, and wherever you begin to dig, you come not upon solid ground but upon house-tops and such like, buried at all varieties of depths below the surface. These ruins contained, so to speak, the key to the internal topography of Jerusalem. 1

A surge in the development of British exploration in the Holy Land, almost unprecedented in terms of scope and vision and methods of scientific execution, took place during the course of the 19th century, particularly from the 1860s onward. Jerusalem became the primary focus for much of this work, and some of the achievements made at that time are still unsurpassed, not to mention some 140 years of detailed research and archaeological excavation that have taken place in the city since then. With the notable exception of the legendary successes of Charles Wilson’s Ordnance Survey of Jerusalem and of Charles Warren’s remarkable excavations around the circuit walls of the Temple Mount, results of many of the lesser-known 19th-century explorers tended to be regarded by modern scholarship as somewhat antiquated and have therefore been relegated to obscurity. These results are now being reappraised, sometimes with splendid and unexpected results of lasting value. What is surprising is that some of the key archaeological desiderata and historical conclusions of the 19th century are still being debated by scholars today with a similar sense of liveliness and conviction. How to account for the tremendous results achieved by 19th-century British explorers in Jerusalem is the subject of the first part of this paper. I shall also be examining the symbiosis of religious and scientific factors that ultimately led to the foundation of the principal institution that lay behind this major work of 1.  “Meeting at Cambridge, May 8th 1867,” PEF Proceedings and Notes, 1865–69: 6. Prior to the publication of the first issue of its Quarterly Statement (PEFQSt, later PEQ) in 1869, the Palestine Exploration Fund (PEF) printed a series of occasional leaflets and annual reports on the activities of the society beginning in 1865, including an important set of letters written by Charles Warren on his archaeological activities in Jerusalem, and these were distributed to subscribing members. These miscellaneous letters and annual reports were eventually bound together and are referred to here as PEF Proceedings and Notes, 1865–1869. A copy of this publication is available in the library of the PEF in London.

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exploration in Jerusalem, namely the Palestine Exploration Fund (PEF). The second part of the paper will deal with British archaeological achievements in Jerusalem between the Wars and until 1967.

Jerusalem as a Focus of Pilgrimage and Exploration Throughout antiquity, Jerusalem was blessed with frequent visits by pilgrims and travelers—Jewish, Christian, and Muslim—many of whom left written records of their observations regarding the sites and antiquities they came across or were shown by guides. Numerous travelogues and itineraries of pilgrims who came to the Holy Land and visited Jerusalem have survived, particularly from the time of the Crusades. In the 17th and 18th centuries, the pertinent materials relating to Jerusalem were summed up by Franciscus Quaresmius and Adrian Reland, and in the 19th century by Carl Ritter and Titus Tobler (Ben-Arieh 1983: 133; Goren 1999: 59–72; 190–208). 2 Travelers were often shown sites in the city and its immediate vicinity while under the constant supervision of local guides, who were extremely controlling and selective in what they decided to show their charges. Cyril Graham in 1866 pointed out that “travelers, with rare exceptions, are always hurried, follow each other’s tracks with rigid persistence, and, utterly destitute of the language, are at the mercy of an ignorant if not a designing interpreter” (“Report, July 23rd, 1866,” PEF Proceedings and Notes, 1865–69: 6). The reason why so many travelers persisted in making the journey to Jerusalem was to examine with their own eyes the holy sites, and this was especially true of Christians. It is said that, on reaching Jaffa, Napoleon Bonaparte was asked why he “would not go on to Jerusalem, as it was only 30 miles away.” “Jerusalem,” he replied, “does not come within the line of my operations.” Napoleon, like Alexander the Great more than 2,000 years before his time, saw no military advantage in getting to Jerusalem, and its religious aspects were not of interest to him. And it was religious fervor that drew pilgrims to the city like flies to honey, and those back home almost always desired more information about the city and its marvels, especially during the 18th and 19th centuries. The Dean of Canterbury himself, admitted as such at the founding meeting of the PEF, held in 1865, that because, in his estimation, “educated men know so much of Athens, and so little of Jerusalem,” he could not wait until explorers would start bringing back home to England maps, sketches, and photographs that could serve as illustrations for a proper understanding of the Bible, as well as detailed accounts of discoveries and their excavation (“Public Meeting, June 22nd 1865,” PEF Proceedings and Notes, 1865–69: 21). Many scholars in the 19th century realized that, notwithstanding the amount of information collated in previous centuries, more detailed information and records needed to be gathered but in a much more systematic fashion. At a public meeting 2.  F. Quaresmius, Elucidatio Terrae Sanctae (Antwerp, 1639; repr., Jerusalem: Franciscan Printing Press, 1989, with an Italian translation by S. Sandoli); A. Reland, Palaestina ex monumentis veteribus illustrata (Utrecht, 1714).

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Fig. 1.  Portrait of the explorer Charles Wilson.

held in Cambridge on May 8th, 1867, the Dean of Westminster remarked: “people said that hundreds and hundreds of travelers had visited the country, and asked what there was to find which had not already been described.” In answering this criticism, the Dean stated that ordinary travelers simply did not have the time to examine sites, nor did they have the means to examine extant ancient structural remains in any comprehensive fashion. The rapidity of travel and the prescribed route taken by visitors was not at all conducive to proper research. In addition to all this, excavation was not something that the occasional traveler could undertake (“Meeting at Cambridge, May 8th 1867,” PEF Proceedings and Notes, 1865–69: 5). Prior to the founding of the PEF, scholars traveling to the Holy Land were forced by circumstances to be totally self-reliant, and this is how John L. Porter in 1866 described his almost solitary investigations: “I generally traveled alone; I had no companions, no staff, excavators, or photographers to accompany me. I had my own servants and my own tents, but that was all. All the work I was able to do

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I had to complete myself” (“Report, July 23rd 1866,” PEF Proceedings and Notes, 1865–69: 17).

The Ordnance Survey of Jerusalem as a Major Factor of Change in Exploration Procedures The Ordnance Survey of Jerusalem was the first expedition to Jerusalem that was organized as a proper “exploration activity” rather than just a “scholarly visit.” It was funded by the benefactress Angela Georgina (later Baroness) Burdett-Coutts, who acted in a philanthropic manner with the purpose of seeking to supply the inhabitants of Jerusalem with a new supply of water (Webster 1985b: 186–89). 3 On the basis of advice Burdett-Coutts received regarding matters connected to the water supply and on the basis of her personal interest in the history of the city, a decision was made to undertake a complete and accurate survey of the Old City of Jerusalem. 4 The survey originated in a petition from Dean Stanley of Westminster to Lord de Grey and Ripon, British Secretary of State for War, indicating that the city sorely needed an improved water supply and sewage system and that this could not be undertaken without a proper mapping expedition first being made. Austen H Layard made it very clear in 1865 that the survey had been conducted “under the auspices of the War Department and with the sanction of the Government” (“Public Meeting, June 22nd 1865,” PEF Proceedings and Notes, 1865–69: 7). Surprisingly, although the Ordnance Survey was incredibly important in that it provided the Western World with the most accurate map of Jerusalem, it did not in the end have the effect of alleviating the dire problem of Jerusalem’s water supply in any way whatsoever. 5 It was through Sir Henry James, director-general of the Ordnance Survey, that Captain Charles Wilson of the Royal Engineers was sent to Jerusalem in October 1864, accompanied by sappers and a few miners and the photographer James McDonald, R.E., who made an extremely important pictorial record of the city’s buildings. 6 Work continued until May 1865. The map of the city (scale 1:2500) was 3.  The correspondence of Burdett-Coutts for this period (Papers Nos. 1380–81) is kept in the Lambeth Palace Library, London. While Burdett-Coutts provided the sum of 500 pounds toward the project, it appears to have cost much more than this, especially when we consider that Wilson agreed to forego any payment for his efforts. The latter calculated that the overall cost of such an enterprise of exploration to be more in the range of 1,000 pounds per explorer, though Layard seems to indicate that the total sum of the actual Ordnance Survey eventually reached 1,500 pounds; but perhaps he was also calculating the cost of the subsequent publication (for the comments by Wilson: “Public Meeting, June 22nd 1865,” PEF Proceedings and Notes, 1865–69: 23; and Layard: “Report, July 23rd 1866,” PEF Proceedings and Notes, 1865–69 : 13). 4.  For assessments of the survey, see Newman 1949: 64–77; Hart 1965: 214–25. 5. The Jerusalem Water Relief Fund had already highlighted the difficult water situation in the city, and proposals for improvement had been put forward by J. I. Whitty and Sir J. McNeill. The total cost of improving the water supply was estimated at 25,000 pounds, and Burdett-Coutts offered to cover this amount, but the Turks were unwilling to take up the offer on the grounds that they did not want the obligation of having to keep the water works in constant repair once the full supply of the city had been obtained (see “Water in the City”: Gibson 2003: 119–29 and references there). 6.  For a biography of McDonald (1822–1885), see Howe 1997: 137–38; also Gibson 2003: 182.

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Fig. 2.  Map of Jerusalem showing archaeological remains uncovered there in the 19th century.

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contoured at 10-foot vertical intervals and showed details of all the streets and important buildings. Benchmarks were cut at the corners of the city walls, at the city gates, and on churches and other public buildings (Shurman 1994: 49–51). Another smaller map (scale 1:10,000) was prepared of the environs of the city, covering an area of about 3 square miles, showing the principal valleys and elevated areas, as well as various features and buildings located outside the Old City. In addition, Wilson drew detailed plans of the Citadel complex, the Haram al-Sharif, and the Church of the Holy Sepulchre. The architectural historian James Fergusson visited Jerusalem toward the end of October 1864 and together with Wilson examined many of its subterranean antiquities, particularly in the area of the Haram al-Sharif. The resulting map was the most trustworthy of the city that had ever been made. Previous attempts to produce a detailed and precise map of the city had met with varying degrees of success. 7 Indeed, George Grove, honorary secretary of the PEF, indicated that this map was as accurate a map as any existing map of London or any other city of the Western World (“Meeting at Cambridge, May 8th 1867,” PEF Proceedings and Notes, 1865–69 : 1) He also described the immediate results of the survey as showing “how much may be done with tact, temper, and opportunity, without arousing the opposition of the authorities or inhabitants” (“Prospectus,” PEF Proceedings and Notes, 1865–69 : 2). The fact of the matter, however, was that the activities of the survey led to local fears that it was the harbinger of increased taxation, and some residents of the Jewish Quarter refused Wilson entry to their houses (Gibson 2001: 158). The maps and plans were prepared by the topographical department of the Ordnance Survey and, together with the photographs by James Macdonald, were first shown to an audience of the PEF at a meeting held in London on 23rd July 1866, as a special dispensation provided by Sir Henry James of the Ordnance Survey, indicating quite clearly that at that date the official publication of the maps and photographs had not yet seen the light of day (“Report, July 23rd 1866,” PEF Proceedings and Notes, 1865–69 : 17). Indeed, Charles Warren, who succeeded Wilson in the task of exploring Jerusalem, supervised Corporal Hancock in March–June 1867 in the completion of the contouring around Jerusalem and the plumbing of the city walls. Relief maps based on the mapping were produced by the Ordnance Survey and sold to educational establishments and museums in England. The Ordnance Survey map continued to be used by later PEF explorers in Jerusalem, notably by Charles F. Tyrwhitt-Drake, Claude R. Conder, Conrad Schick, James E. Hanauer, and others; a new edition incorporating their discoveries and corrections was printed in 1876 (Wilson 1866; 1876). This updated version was subsequently used by all visiting explorers and resident antiquarians of Jerusalem, and when a new map of the city was prepared by the Palestine Survey in 1937 7.  The most noteworthy of these earlier maps include those of the physician and natural historian F. W. Sieber in 1818, the architect F. Catherwood in 1833, the soldiers Lieutenants E. Aldrich and J. F. A. Symonds, R.E., in 1841, the Swiss physician T. Tobler in 1854, and the Dutch explorer C. W. M. Van de Velde in 1858, the latter being the best available map until the publication of the Ordnance Survey map of Jerusalem. For further details, see Jones 1973: 29–41; Ben-Arieh 1974: 150–60; 1973: 64–74 [Hebrew]; Goren 2002: 90.

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Fig. 3.  Citadel with Hippicus Tower in photograph taken by Elisabeth Finn (?).

(scale 1: 2,500), only minor revisions were deemed necessary. The revision survey was conducted in 1935–36 by J. H. Mankin, superintendent of surveys in the British Mandate Government, who proudly noted: “It must be recorded that the great work carried out under difficult conditions during the Turkish regime by the 1865 Sapper Surveyors stood the test of time and was—in fact—a monumental survey.” (Mankin 1969: 37–39; see also the comments by Sir Charles F. Close in PEQ October 1937: 269)

Motives Behind the Founding of the Palestine Exploration Fund The Dean of Westminster in 1866 described the work of the Ordnance Survey of Jerusalem as a “sort of pre-historic stage of our Palestine Exploration Fund” (“Report, July 23rd 1866,” PEF Proceedings and Notes, 1865–69 : 19). This is also clear from the Preface to the publication of the Ordnance Survey of Jerusalem, in which Sir Henry James asserts that its success was one of the reasons that led to the founding of the Palestine Exploration Fund in 1865 (Wilson 1866). While evidently an important factor behind the establishing of the Fund, a number of earlier societies had already previously established as their object the study of Palestine, notably the “Palestine Association” and the “Jerusalem Literary (and Scientific) Society.” The latter was the brainchild of Elizabeth Anne Finn, and it held meetings in Jerusalem from 1849 while her husband, James Finn, was actively British consul at the time (Webster 1985a). Finn wrote that the goals of the Society were “subjects of interest connected with the Holy Land, including antiquities, natural history and investigations of all kinds; the only subject excluded was religious controversy.” She also stated that “we had the satisfaction of knowing that it [the Jerusalem Literary Society] ultimately led to the formation of the Palestine Exploration Fund” ([Finn] 1929: 93). Indeed, the principal founder of the PEF, G. Grove, had in 1858 visited Jerusalem and according to Finn was duly impressed by the

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Fig. 4.  The explorer Charles Warren (far left) and comrades in Jerusalem.

achievements of her society. Finn wrote: “Sir George Grove being a friend of Dean Stanley stirred him up, so that when we got to England five years afterwards we found that they were about to start as a new society the Palestine Exploration Fund to carry on the very work we had suggested and begun. In July 1893 the Exploration Fund published a notice to the effect that the Literary Society was the parent of the Exploration Fund” ([Finn] 1929: 181). 8 Finn’s interest in the PEF continued in later years as well, and she was instrumental in raising funds for the Survey of Western Palestine in 1876. The Palestine Association was formed in 1804 with the objective of procuring and publishing information regarding the geography, the people, the climate, and the history of the Holy Land. A few scholars were actually sent out by the association but, owing to dangerous conditions perceived in Palestine, their endeavors were unsuccessful, and they never got farther than Malta. Following the establishing of the Royal Geographic Society in 1830, the Palestine Association became amalgamated with it in 1834. In a meeting presided over by Bartle Frere, it was decided to dissolve the association and to hand over to the Royal Geographic Society all of its funds (135 pounds, 9 shillings, and 8 pence), books, and papers (Watson 8. PEF Secretary and scholar, E. W. G. Masterman, in a review of Finn’s life, wrote that the Jerusalem Literary Society was in a sense “a precursor of the PEF” (PEFQSt April 1930: 97; see also comments in PEFQSt October 1892: 265–66; and in PEFQSt July 1893: 183.

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Fig. 5.  Henry Birtles descending a shaft to the Herodian Street below Robinson’s Arch in a watercolor from 1871 by William Simpson.

1915: 11). Bliss pointed out that the Fund’s Quarterly Statement of 1876 (p. 154) states quite emphatically that “the [Palestine Association] thus dissolved in 1834 was instituted again in 1865,” thereby recognizing a clear organic connection between the two (Bliss 1906: 255–56; see also the comments by Sir Charles F. Close in PEQSt July 1929: 136). There were undoubtedly religious motives among some of those who were party to the founding of the Palestine Exploration Fund. It is perhaps not surprising, therefore, that at the important public meeting for the founding of the PEF held in the Willis’s Rooms at St. James in London on Friday, June 22, 1865, the Bishop of London decided to open the proceedings with a prayer session. The event was also chaired by the Archbishop of York, who lent not just respectability to the proceedings but also emphasized the overall religious interest that was being invested in the discussions pertaining to the exploration of Jerusalem and the Holy Land. The Bishop of London claimed that the PEF’s goals were not at all similar to that of a religious society––and by that he meant groups advocating extreme

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Fig. 6.  The Western Wall with the lintel of Barclay’s Gate (visible on the right behind the steps) in a watercolor by William Simpson.

controversies and marginalized points of view. However, this did not mean that some of the ultimate goals of the society, at least in his eyes, were not meant to facilitate, strengthen and enlighten those from a religious background who might wish to confirm and clarify their religion—otherwise there would have been no point in his and the Archbishop of York’s participation at this specific public meeting. This was made quite clear when he went on to say that “we belong also to a church which professes great reverence for the sacred books, and we should be certainly greatly deficient in our duty if we did not promote an undertaking which is likely to give material aid to the interpretation of those books” (“Public Meeting, June 22nd 1865,” PEF Proceedings and Notes, 1865–69 : 4). Because of the tone set at this founding meeting of the Fund, the printed prospectus that emanated from it made it very clear that “no country should be of so much interest to us as that in which the documents of our Faith were written.” (“Prospectus,” PEF Proceedings and Notes, 1865–69 : 2.) According to Bliss, however, “the non-committal platform [of the PEF] as to religious matters is illustrated by the roll of members, which, besides a number of Jews, includes Roman Catholics, Greeks, Anglicans, and Protestants of other churches, including Unitarians” (Bliss 1906: 260–61; Lipman 1988: 45–54). In later years, controversy once again erupted in regard to the possible function of the Fund as a society for “proving the truth” of Scripture. Indeed Bishop Edwards even went so far as to refer to the Society as having been founded by “Christian people . . . largely for the purpose of demon-

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Fig. 7.  Portrait of F. J. Bliss (right) and A. C. Dickie in a photograph by G. Krikorian.

strating to the unbelieving world the truth of the story as recorded in the Bible.” 9 Searight later claimed that part of the reason for the setting up of a society such as the Palestine Exploration Fund was to stem “the onslaught that scientists were making on the foundations of orthodox religion” (Searight 1969), an opinion that was subsequently dismissed by Olga Tufnell (1970: 137–38) on the grounds that of the original Fund’s General Committee only a third consisted of clergy and of the 9.  See the exchange between Edwards, Bishop of Rochester and Sir Charles Marston in PEFQSt July 1932: 122–24; see also PEFQSt July 1936: 125–26 and the remark by Crimp on p. 132 as to whether the Fund should serve as a scientific or fundamentalist society. For further on this aspect, see Broshi 1987: 17–32; Goren 1998: 103–15.

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Fig. 8.  The Ottoman firman allowing Bliss to conduct excavations in Jerusalem.

Executive Committee only two of the fifteen members were clergy, namely Rev. Frederick W. Holland and Canon Henry B. Tristram (Searight 1969). One must take into account, however, the fact that Grove, who was the principal founder of the Fund (Moscrop 2000: 64; Goren 2001: 153–65), held a great interest in biblical history and for that reason was eager for new and proper explorations to be conducted in Jerusalem and elsewhere in the Holy Land of a scientific rather than religious character. Indeed, prior to the Ordnance Survey of Jerusalem, Grove and James Fergusson had repeatedly discussed the possibility of carrying out scientific researches and surveys in Jerusalem (Graves 1903: 118). Those whose interests were in biblical research “saw in him the ideal middle-man, one who was theologically broad to the point of neutrality, and as scientifically objective as it was possible to be” (Young 1980: 88). 10 Indeed, Grove, when replying to a letter from Kingsley, objecting that some members of the newly-formed PEF Committee might eventually disapprove of a discussion of such things as geological formations, on the grounds that their theological tenets would be harmed, assured him that he 10.  Lipman concludes that the success of the PEF was owing to Grove’s formula—the collection of all facts about Jerusalem and the Holy Land, past and present, “as a means of unifying people with very different interests and standpoints” (1988: 51).

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Fig. 9.  Portrait of Conrad Schick taken in 1897.

would make sure that scientific principles would prevail and that he would strive to see that the Fund’s Committee was not populated (as he put it) by “too many parsons” (Young 1980: 90). The resolutions made during the founding meeting of the PEF make it clear that there were quite a few different motives at play, with certain individuals, notably the naturalist Tristram, expressing an interest in a society that would promote a study of the geology and geography of the region, on the one hand, and the study of the animal and plant-life, on the other. In addition to all of this, the illustrious excavator of Nineveh, Layard, was also present at the founding meeting of the Fund, and perhaps because of his recent experience in the field, suggested that they should consider the scientific exploration of Jerusalem as a primary goal, on the grounds that it might throw light on the archaeology of the Jewish people. He stated that “indeed, we know scarcely anything of the Jews from existing monuments and remains. A few large stones and foundations, discovered at Jerusalem in casual excavations, are all we can point to with certainty” (“Public Meeting, June 22nd 1865,” PEF Proceedings and Notes, 1865–69: 6).

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Fig. 10.  Original plan of an Early Roman kokhim tomb in north Jerusalem made by Conrad Schick.

Goals of the PEF Explorations in Jerusalem The goal of undertaking excavations in Jerusalem was very much a central feature of the founding meeting of the PEF in 1865, one that clearly resulted from the success of the Ordnance Survey of Jerusalem of 1864 and 1865. Layard stated that he did foresee considerable difficulties with the Turkish Ottoman authorities in excavating in Jerusalem but that the new PEF should ultimately persevere in such endeavors, since there was so much to gain. John L. Porter expressed similar sentiments later in 1866 regarding the possible difficulties of digging in Jerusalem but believed that the patronage that the PEF enjoyed might allow for successful British representations being made from the Turkish authorities at Constantinople in regard to asking for permission to carry out extensive excavations in Jerusalem and “even around the Temple area” (“Report, July 23rd 1866,” PEF Proceedings and Notes, 1865–69: 17).

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In the Fund’s prospectus, produced in 1865, it was stated that Jerusalem was a prime target for digging operations and that “what is above ground will be accurately known [only] when the present [Ordnance] survey is completed; but below the surface hardly anything has yet been discovered. . . . It is not too much to anticipate that every foot in depth of the ‘sixty feet [ca. 18 m] of rubbish’ on which the city stands, will yield interesting and important materials for the Archaeologist or the Numismatist (“Prospectus,” PEF Proceedings and Notes, 1865–69 : 2). The initial sites targeted for excavations were stated to be (not necessarily in order of importance): (1) locating the tombs of David and Solomon on Mount Zion; (2) determining the course of the Tyropoeon Valley; (3) determining the extent of the Temple Mount; (4) finding the exact site of the Tower of Antonia; (5) finding the palace of Herod the Great; (6) locating Ophel; (7) finding the Pool of Bethesda; (8) establishing the position of the Towers of Hippicus and Psephinus; and (9) examining the spring (Virgin’s Fountain) and the conduit of Hezekiah. It is interesting to note that after 140 years of research, surveys, and excavations in Jerusalem, not all of the targets as set out in the Fund’s original prospectus of 1865 have been achieved. The situation of the royal tombs of David and Solomon are still not known. While the course of the Tyropoeon Valley is now much better known, particularly as a result of the numerous excavations in the area close to the southwest foot of the Temple Mount and farther south to the west of the City of David and in the area of the Siloam Pool, hardly anything is known about its upper reaches, in the stretch situated beneath the Muslim Quarter. The Temple Mount was the subject of an intensive study by Warren and many other PEF explorers and in modern times by a large number of archaeologists, though hardly any archaeological work has been conducted within the esplanade itself, with most of the new archaeological work undertaken along the outer Temple Mount walls to the west, southwest, south, and even to the east (Mazar 1975a; 1975b; Mazar and Mazar 1989). The situation of the northern wall of the Temple Mount, however, still remains unclear and problematic ( Jacobson 1990–91: 36–66), and this is also true in regard to the dimensions and appearance of the Antonia Tower (Wightman 1990–91: 7–35). While the general foundations of the palace of Herod the Great in the Upper City are known as a result of excavations in the Armenian Garden (Bahat and Broshi 1975; Broshi and Gibson 1994: 147–55), only one of the three towers protecting it from the north is known (it should probably be identified as Hippicus), while the exact position of the other two (Phasael and Mariamne) are still unknown. The whereabouts of the Ophel is generally assumed to be south of the Temple Mount, 11 and excavations in the area of the Church of St. Anne, north 11.  The location of the Ophel is still uncertain. Some believe it to be a topographical feature on the north side of the City of David or Southeast Hill. Mazar and Mazar (1989: ix–x) have identified it with Iron Age building remains uncovered immediately south of the Temple Mount. However, the reference to another Ophel at Samaria (2 Kgs 5:24) suggests that it was a massive artificial fortification complex and not a natural topographical feature. Perhaps the early Iron Age “stepped stone structure” (excavated by Shiloh in Area G) and the interconnecting building on the adjacent ridge with massive foundation walls (excavated by E. Mazar) should be identified with the Ophel rather than as a royal palace. For the recent excavations, see Mazar 2007.

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Fig. 11.  The decapitated head of Flinders Petrie.

of the Temple Mount, brought to light the double Pool of Bethesda (Gibson 2005: 270–93). Numerous excavations have also been conducted in the area of the Gihon Spring (or Virgin’s Fountain) and its vicinity (Reich and Shukron 2000: 327–39). However, the situation of the Tower of Psephinus even today remains one of the mysteries of the archaeology of the city. In a Statement of Progress drawn up by the PEF in 1866, the list of what might eventually be achieved by excavations in Jerusalem appeared to be much more focused on the Temple Mount area than was presented in the original Prospectus, perhaps owing to the considerable experience gained by Wilson during the Ordnance Survey of 1864 and 1865 and which he also obtained following a second trip made to Jerusalem for the PEF in April 1866. Accepting that it would be difficult “to obtain permission to disturb the surface of the Haram area,” the Statement goes on to say that with the authority of a letter from the Ottoman Turkish vizier, it might be possible to investigate by excavation the subterranean vaults, cisterns, and passages under the esplanade and to conduct digging operations along parts of the outer western wall of the Temple Mount. A suggestion was also made to investigate features and cisterns under the southern part of the Temple Mount, beneath the Aqsa Mosque, including searching for the western wall of the Triple Gate passage, the opening up of doorways seen inside the Double Gate, and the investigation of the subterranean rock-hewn passages previously seen by Félicien de Saulcy in the area. The logistical problems of carrying out such operations were already being considered. They would have to be done on a large scale; houses adjacent to the excavations would need to be rented or perhaps bought; compensation and bakshish would have to be paid to landowners; and considerable timber would need to be bought to shore up houses near the excavation areas (“Statement of Progress, July 23rd 1866,” PEF Proceedings and Notes, 1865–69 : 23).

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Fig. 12.  Portrait of R. A. S. Macalister.

George Grove, Honorary Secretary of the PEF, made it clear in a meeting held in Cambridge in 1867 that it was decided to concentrate almost all future excavations in Jerusalem, and toward that purpose, Lieutenant Charles Warren of the Royal Engineers, with previous experience in topographical and excavation operations in Algeria and Gibraltar, had been sent out to Jerusalem in the company of two sappers (“Meeting at Cambridge, May 8th 1867,” PEF Proceedings and Notes, 1865–69: 3). In regard to the questions raised by scholars about the topography of Jerusalem, some of which had been debated for decades without resolution, the Dean of Westminster pointed out to his audience that “without excavation all the theories and speculations that existed about the internal topography of Jerusalem rested upon mere air.” He then went on to list the various controversies that existed at his time: (1) whether the Church of the Holy Sepulchre was at the real site of the Tomb of Jesus; (2) the situation and direction of the ancient city walls; and (3) the location

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Fig. 13a.  Macalister and Duncan’s “Jebusite Ramp” [left half of picture].

of the royal tombs of the Kings of Judah (“Meeting at Cambridge, May 8th 1867,” PEF Proceedings and Notes, 1865–69 : 5). A more complete list of the controversies that the PEF were hoping to clarify with excavations in Jerusalem was published by Walter Besant (1886: 49–54). One of the most important of these was the need to establish the exact course of the Second Wall of Jerusalem, as described by Flavius Josephus, and to ascertain whether or not it included the knoll on which the Church of the Holy Sepulchre is located. This was a matter of great concern for Christians. Second, there were the theories as advanced by James Fergusson in regard to the Dome of the Rock being the real location of Constantine’s church and with the cave beneath the rock as the place of the Tomb of Jesus. In his opinion, the Jewish Temple was originally situated at the southern end of the Haram al-Sharif, or in the area of the al-Aqsa Mosque ( Jacobson 2003). Nowadays, we can regard these views as totally untenable, but the lack of knowledge that prevailed at that time made such views fairly reasonable to general scholarship and to the lay public.

Key Explorations in Jerusalem Lieutenant Charles Warren was sent out to work in Jerusalem accompanied by Sergeant Henry Birtles from the Horse Guards and various sappers. The photographer of the expedition was Corporal Henry Phillips (Gibson 1997: 238–39). They

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Fig. 13b.  Macalister and Duncan’s “Jebusite Ramp” [right half of picture].

were helped in their endeavors by Dr. Thomas Chaplin, the Rev. Dr. Joseph Barclay, and by the Consul at Jerusalem, Noel Moore. 12 With a letter in hand from the vizier allowing him to excavate wherever he wanted in Jerusalem except for within the Haram precincts, Warren arrived in Jerusalem in February 1867 and continued working there until April 1870. Warren’s operations were directed mainly toward clarifying the ancient aspects of the Temple Mount, with the investigation by survey of cisterns and subterranean spaces, previously seen by Wilson in the Ordnance Survey (Gibson and Jacobson 1996: 15–17); of the passages beneath the Aqsa Mosque and alongside the so-called Stables of Solomon; by digging in the area close to Wilson’s Arch; the area beneath Robinson’s Arch near the southwest corner of the Temple Mount, and at one or two other locations within the city (for example, at the Muristan and at the Damascus Gate) and outside the walls (for example, at Bir Ayyub). Back in London, there was disappointment in some quarters (but not among PEF members) that the discoveries made by Warren did not match the discoveries previously made by Layard in Nineveh and that art objects and examples of sculpture and carved friezes were not discovered. 12.  On Chaplin, see Lev and Perry 2004; and on Barclay, see Anonymous 1883. For the problematic relationship between Warren and Moore, see the comments by Russell 1869: 365.

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Fig. 14.  Sketch-plan of Macalister and Duncan’s work in the area of the “Jebusite Ramp” (later Shiloh’s Area G).

Warren’s methods in his Jerusalem work were quite straightforward. From his perspective, there were certain facts about which nobody could argue, such as the fact that the Jewish Temple was originally situated on the spot known as the Haram al-Sharif, that the large hill to its east was the Mount of Olives, and that the valley in between was the Kidron Valley. Other subjects, such as the exact location of biblical Mount Zion, were still a matter of great controversy and debate. “In exploring,” Warren made it clear, “we must go on the principal that we know nothing until it is fully established; ever ready to acquire ideas and to suspend judgment, we are busy collecting facts, and have no time for speculation, so long as we can apply to the ground for information” (“Public Meeting, June 11th 1868,” PEF Proceedings and Notes, 1865–69: 7). 13 Notwithstanding the fact that there were no spectacular art objects to be found, such as those uncovered at Nineveh, there was an enormous amount of satisfaction among PEF members in regard to Warren’s early achievements in Jerusalem, with a decision made that he should continue to conduct digging operations and that he should prosecute these in a more systematic fashion. At a meeting of the PEF held in 1868, a report was read concerning Warren’s work, and it was stated that 13.  This method is in stark contrast to the method of applying preconceived ideas to archaeological remains that was practiced at the same time at Troy by Heinrich Schliemann (1868) and elsewhere (Traill 1995).

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Fig. 15.  Corner of fortified building excavated by Crowfoot on the west side of the City of David.

“for the first time the actual streets of the ancient city have been reached—underground passages, which have been hidden for centuries by the mass of incumbent ruins, have been brought to light, a complicated network of drains and reservoirs is being laid bare, which, when fully explored, will no doubt aid very considerably in settling many difficult points connected with the level of different portions of Jerusalem” (“Public Meeting, June 11th 1868,” PEF Proceedings and Notes, 1865–69: 3). Warren apparently spent part of his time in London discussing his work with colleagues, presumably also with Wilson, as well as weighing up what might still be achieved during future excavations in Jerusalem: “He will return, we trust, not only with renewed health, but also, having had the opportunity of conferring with many eminent men in this country who are best able to advise on the difficult questions which must necessarily come before him, with renewed power to carry on the work of exploration” (“Public Meeting, June 11th 1868,” PEF Proceedings and Notes, 1865–69 : 5). Warren’s technique of work in Jerusalem consisted of excavating 38-m-deep vertical shafts and horizontal galleries that were shored up with wooden planks, all of which was incredibly dangerous, “as the rubbish was largely composed of stone chippings from the ruins of old buildings which had been destroyed, with here and there a layer of earth which had collected in times of peace. The rubble formed a kind of shingle which had no cohesion, and had a tendency to run into and fill

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Fig. 16.  Elevation drawings of wall of Second Temple period cistern excavated by Crowfoot in Field 9. Drawing by N. Reiss (Avigad).

up the shafts and galleries, while large stones, scattered through it, displaced and broke the wooden cases put in to support the sides and roofs. In places also the rubbish was fouled with sewage, which caused wounds on the hands of the workmen to fester” (Watson 1915: 44). Warren continued to work at Jerusalem with many more achievements and successes, and this caused a certain amount of tension between him and Wilson at the PEF, especially in view of the latter’s publication of modifications of Warren’s drawings without his permission in an article that appeared in the PEF’s Quarterly Statement for 1880 (Wilson 1880: 9–65). Walter Besant, however, was not at all modest about what he thought Warren’s achievements were at Jerusalem: “It was Warren who restored the ancient city to the world; he it was who stripped the rubbish from the rocks, and showed the glorious Temple standing within its walls, 1000 feet long and 200 feet high, of mighty masonry; he it was who laid open the valleys now covered up and hidden; he who opened the secret passages, the aqueducts, the bridge connecting temple and town. Whatever else may be done in the future, his name will always be associated with the Holy City which he first recovered” (Besant 1886:

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Fig. 17.  Doorway leading to the joint British School of Archaeology and Department of Antiquities of Palestine at Way House in Jerusalem, in a photograph taken by John Garstang.

62). One can only imagine how that other giant of Jerusalem research, Charles Wilson, must have felt on reading Besant’s lines. In a much more restrained fashion, Charles Watson’s appreciation of Warren’s results reads as follows: “Speaking generally, the results of Captain Warren’s expedition have been of the greatest possible importance, and they form the basis of that study of ancient Jerusalem that has continued ever since. All those interested in Bible history owe him a debt of gratitude for the thorough manner in which he carried out his difficult and interesting explorations” (Watson 1915: 52). On conclusion of the work in the field, Walter Morrison, the PEF Treasurer, edited a book with chapters by Wilson and Warren entitled The Recovery of Jerusalem (Morrison 1871), 14 which was followed not long after by a popular account of Warren’s work in Jerusalem entitled Underground Jerusalem (1876). Additional work was undertaken in Jerusalem from the 1870s on behalf of the PEF by Charles Tyrwhitt-Drake, Claude R. Conder, Charles Clermont-Ganneau, and Conrad Schick, among others. They too focused, whenever possible, on the study of the Temple Mount, but more work was now being done elsewhere in the city, using the Ordnance Survey map as the basis for recording observations and finds. Important work on the fortifications of Mount Zion was made by the engineer H. Mauds­ lay in the area of the Bishop Gobat School and was reported on by Conder. Much work was also done by Schick, a protégé of Wilson, who began making models of ancient Jerusalem as well as researching and studying ancient remains. 15 An important achievement was the publication in 1884 of much of these combined results in a “Jerusalem” volume of the memoirs of the Survey of Western Palestine (Warren 14.  Apparently, according to Bliss, Warren was pressured into writing this chapter while suffering from fever and exhaustion (Bliss 1906: 267 n. 1). 15.  Wilson undoubtedly appreciated Schick’s contribution to the exploration of Jerusalem but also had some reservations about the exactitude of his drawings and maps of antiquities, saying “Dr Schick, whose accuracy as regards measurements is well known, rarely made any distinction either in his writings or in his drawings between existing and assumed remains” (1906: 134).

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Fig. 18.  View of the southeast corner of the Haram al-Sharif (Temple Mount) in a photograph taken at the time of Kenyon’s excavations in the area in the 1960s.

and Conder 1884). It was not just an account of excavations in the city made since Warren’s time, but it also included descriptions of architectural monuments and a chronological overview on the history of Jerusalem. In conjunction with the Survey volume, the PEF also brought out a very large companion portfolio of fifty maps, plans and drawings, entitled Plans, Elevations, Sections, etc., Shewing the Results of the Excavations at Jerusalem, 1867–70 (now known as the “Warren Atlas” [Warren 1884]). While the Survey of Western Palestine remained in progress, the Fund decided it was not able to send out a new expedition to undertake exclusive excavations at Jerusalem, partly for financial reasons and partly because there was no longer a major target for exploration, such as Warren had had with the Temple Mount. The PEF preferred instead to receive piecemeal reports on excavation results and survey investigations made by Clermont-Ganneau, Schick, Hanauer, and others in different parts of the city, much of which was subsequently published in the pages of the

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Fund’s Quarterly Statement. Conrad Schick was exceptionally loyal and punctilious, and maintained strong links with the PEF from 1865 until his death in 1901. Watson mentions that “whenever a house was being removed, or excavations were made for the foundation of a new building, he was always on the spot, recording what could be seen, and making plans of all that was discovered underground” (Watson 1915: 109). 16 Some of the PEF Executive Members sitting in London, among them well-known scholars and clergy, treated Schick with a degree of suspicion derived partly from xenophobia, partly from his capability for producing an endless flow of reports, something which was almost unparalleled among his colleagues even in his own time (Conder is an exception), and partly because they were not always able to assess the full scientific quality of his work. Others, however, treated Schick with the respect he deserved. Today, there can be no doubt that his archaeological achievements are of the utmost importance. Over the period of his residence in Jerusalem, until his death in 1901, Schick published more than 200 reports within the pages of the PEF’s Quarterly Statement. Many of these reports are edited versions of longer and more detailed letters sent by Schick (now in the PEF archives). One subject that seemed to evade many of the explorers working in Jerusalem was that of the exact alignment of the ancient city walls as described in the biblical accounts and in the writings of Josephus Flavius, except for the small segments of defense walls previously uncovered by Warren on the eastern “Ophel” slope, by Maudslay near the Gobat School on Mount Zion (Schultz 2004: 57–74), and by Hermann Guthe in the lower Tyropoeon Valley. Hence, the Fund decided to mount an expedition to Jerusalem to investigate the south side of the city, from the traditional Mount Zion to the west to the area of the “City of David” in the east. These excavations were subsequently conducted between 1894–97, using a system of shafts and galleries, and were made under the direction of Frederick Jones Bliss, who had previously taken over from William Matthew Flinders Petrie at the Tell elHesi excavations during 1891–92, and with the assistance of the architect Archibald Campbell Dickie. Numerous segments of fortification walls, towers, and gates were eventually recorded. The results of the work were promptly published by Bliss in a book entitled Excavations in Jerusalem (Bliss 1898). 17

British Archaeological Work in Jerusalem between the Two Wars The vast amount of archaeological work made by British explorers in the 19th century paved the way for the major discussions and controversies of the 20th century, particularly in regard to the location of the original biblical Zion (whether 16. For further discussion of Schick’s achievements, see Goren 1999: 235–50; Gibson 2000: 113–22. Numerous drawings and notes made by Schick and other PEF explorers exist in the PEF archives in London, and much of this material was partly published or not at all. One has to remember that in the 19th century the placing of a drawing or report into the archives of the PEF was perceived by many at that time, notably by PEF Committee members and associated scholars, almost as an act of publication. Hence, one frequently finds notes in the Quarterly Statement to drawings and plans having been “placed” into the PEF archives for future reference by visiting scholars. 17.  For a recent assessment of Bliss and his archaeological achievements: Hallote 2006: 121–32.

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it was on the southeastern or southwestern hills), the extent of the Iron Age city and whether or not it included the Western Hill, the situation of the Hellenistic Akra fortress, and the outline and exact course of the northern city fortifications (namely the situation of the Second Wall and its impact on the location of Christ’s crucifixion at Golgotha, on the one hand, and the exact line of the Third Wall, whether beneath the northern city wall of today or farther north, on the other). The first opportunity to test some of these archaeological questions came about as a result of political circumstances. In 1918, hostilities between the British and Turks eventually ceased, with the result that the British now had firm control of Jerusalem and much of Palestine. What is hardly known is that the capture of Jerusalem was in some measure delayed so that damage to sacred places and monuments could be avoided (Gibson 1999: 135). There was much concern and pressure in England regarding the safeguarding of monuments and antiquities. While there was general satisfaction among all parties and countries in regard to the situation as it developed, the famous archaeologist Flinders Petrie came up with a bizarre suggestion: to demolish much of the Old City of Jerusalem. As he put it: “by far the most satisfactory thing would be to establish a new business town a mile or so out and gradually clear the historic town. Thus the whole of the Medieval Jerusalem could be removed in the future, and the Jewish condition of the town brought to light and restored. . . . The first thing to be done is to get it as clear as we can of human habitation, and preserve it as a sanctuary for the three faiths.” 18 It seems Flinders Petrie was losing his head, and luckily this plan was never seriously considered. Indeed, on his death in 1942, Petrie did (physically) lose his head and it was shipped at his request to London where it is now stored in the Royal College of Surgeons. 19 Returning now to archaeological matters: the Pro-Jerusalem Society was eventually set up by the Governor Ronald Storrs and its charter clearly provided for “the protection and preservation, with the consent of the Government, of the antiquities of the district of Jerusalem” (Ashbee 1921: 15–18). Professor John Garstang was a pivotal individual during the 1920s in regard to excavations in Jerusalem, first as the Director of the British School of Archaeology in Jerusalem, and subsequently as 18.  Petrie quoted in PEFQSt January 1919: 3 19. Petrie was an advocate of the Eugenics movement and, like his mentor Francis Galton, believed that a measure of human intelligence could be pronounced based, among other things, on the measurement of skulls. I am grateful to Dr. Caroline Grigson, who invited me to inspect Petrie’s head, which is stored in a glass container at the Royal College of Surgeons in London. The late Professor Avraham Biran once mentioned to me that, according to a personal conversation he had with the physician who undertook the initial surgery in 1942, only the brain was removed. In fact, the head was also physically removed, perhaps at a slightly later stage, and then eventually it was transported (with the brain) to London. At my request, Margaret S. Drower, author of Flinders Petrie: A Life in Archaeology (1985: 424), examined a photograph of the head and confirmed that it was indeed that of Flinders Petrie. A scar on the temple area of the head confirms this identification. The discoloration of the hair and beard (now black instead of white) is the result of the chemical composition of the preserving liquid agent (not formaldehyde according to Grigson’s laboratory analysis). Petrie’s decapitated body is buried in the Protestant cemetery on Mount Zion in Jerusalem, and his tomb is marked by a simple monolith headstone with the words “Flinders Petrie” and above it the Egyptian hieroglyph ʾankh (meaning “life”).

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the Director of the Palestine Department of Antiquities. Among his achievements was the setting up of the Palestine Archaeological Museum at Way House (later the collections were transferred to the Palestine Archaeological [Rockefeller] Museum), and the formulating of the Antiquities Ordinance, with a set of laws that also included a Schedule of Historical Sites. While Garstang did not himself conduct excavations in Jerusalem, in 1922 he urged the PEF to resume archaeological work in Jerusalem as part of a joint effort with archaeologists from other countries. The focus was the Ophel and the City of David, and the aim was to retrieve further information regarding the perplexing question as to the original location of biblical Zion (Reich and Shukron 2008: 23–26). The archaeological work was undertaken in 1923–25 by Robert A. S. Macalister with Reverend J. Garrow Duncan, the latter actually shouldering much of the supervisory work conducted in the field. 20 An important find during this work was, of course, a fortification line with a ramp-like built-up area, labeled the “Jebusite ramp,” which was later reexcavated by K. Kenyon and by Y. Shiloh as the “stone stepped structure” in Area G. 21 The accomplishments of this excavation, notwithstanding the disputes between Macalister and Duncan, which affected to some degree the full publication of the excavations, include the confirmation that the Southeast Hill was indeed the ancient Zion and that it was surrounded by a fortification wall. Another important achievement was a very accurate map of the entire Southeast Hill made by Col. Sir Charles F. Close. The Chairman of the PEF, H. R. Hall, pointed out that “it was not expected that at Ophel treasures of gold would be discovered, nor in Palestine are Tutankhamen tombs likely to reward the spade of the digger. What we have discovered is new light on the building and topography of the most ancient Jerusalem, the little city on the steep hill of Ophel that already existed there in the third millennium b.c.” (Macalister and Duncan 1926: viii). New work was resumed on the Ophel/City of David when in 1927 John W. Crowfoot and Gerald M. Fitzgerald cut a 20-meter trench from the west slope of the hill and across the lower Tyropoeon Valley toward the Southwest hill (Crowfoot and Fitzgerald 1929). A massive gate was discovered. It is thought to be Hellenistic, but in my opinion it might go back to a much earlier time, possibly to the Middle Bronze Age. 22 Under the aegis of the Palestine Department of Antiquities in the years from 1934 to 1947, very important excavations were conducted in a different part of the city altogether, in the area of the Citadel near the Jaffa Gate. These excavations were conducted by Cedric Norman Johns, initially as a salvage operation with soundings, owing to the fact that the British, under the supervision of Sir Arthur Wauchope, had taken the step of dismantling the ruined Turkish barracks that had 20.  Macalister and Duncan undertook the work between October 1923 and March 1924, with the continuation of the work by Duncan alone from March 1924 to September 1925. 21.  This might represent parts of the Ophel; see n. 9 above. For the most recent investigation of this stone stepped structure, see Mazar 2008: 33–37. 22.  Clarification regarding the date of this fortification and gate may emerge in the new excavations being conducted at the “Givati parking-lot” compound due north of Crowfoot and Fitzgerald’s area; see Ben-Ami and Tchehanovetz 2008: 108.

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occupied the central space within the courtyard of the Citadel. The soundings revealed the northwest corner of an ancient system of fortifications, associated on the one hand with a very large tower (presumably the Hippicus Tower), and running southward in the direction of the fortifications previously unearthed by Bliss and Dickie on the traditional Mount Zion ( Johns 1940: 1–22; 1950: 121–90).

The Work of Kathleen M. Kenyon Between 1961 and 1967, Kathleen M. Kenyon (who was later made a Dame of the British Empire) conducted a series of major archaeological excavations in Jerusalem. What were the motivations behind this work, and was she successful in accomplishing her goals?  23 In the Preface to her book Jerusalem: Excavating 3000 Years of History (1967: 7), Kenyon explains that one major reason behind her undertaking modern excavations at Jerusalem in the first place was that, in her opinion, her predecessors had dismally failed at their job. She went on to state that, since Warren and Bliss and Dickie were unable to date walls, their work was thereby seriously and fundamentally flawed. She is also critical of her more immediate predecessors, working in the early third of the 20th century (namely, R. A. S. Macalister and J. W. Crowfoot, among others) in that they still had not mastered proper working methods, and by this she meant stratigraphic digging procedures. 24 Indeed, in this regard, Elizabeth (“Betty”) Murray, who participated in the 1933 Samaria excavations, wrote in a letter to her mother that Crowfoot was “terrified” of doing things incorrectly and was in a permanent state of indecision but that he had “learnt a lot from Kathleen’s good slow methods and wants to apply them on every occasion.” 25 In regard to the development of Jerusalem archaeology, Kenyon wrote that “the historian of the 1950s had to recognize that his theories of the growth of Jerusalem were based on very unsound ground. He could invoke historical and topographical reasoning to support them, but he could not invoke archaeological facts.” This statement is somewhat unfair, especially when considering the vast achievements made by her predecessors, Wilson and Warren, and others (as we have seen above). Kay Prag, working on the publication of Kenyon’s Jerusalem excavations, described the goal of her work as follows: “Kenyon’s aim was to produce the first scientificallybased assessment of the archaeology of the city, and to put its archaeology, previously governed almost entirely by biblical descriptions, on a sound footing. Her aim was to excavate, record and phase scientifically the material remains, then to develop conclusions and only at the end of the process, to consider historical and other sources. The archaeological evidence was the primary focus” (Prag 1998: 127– 29). Herein, I believe, lay the major weakness in the working methods as practiced by Kenyon. She believed that knowledge of the history of Jerusalem should not in 23.  For an excellent summary of the story of Kenyon’s work in Jerusalem: Davis 2008: 155–212. 24.  This is repeated in her later book Digging up Jerusalem, when she says that only archaeologists working in Jerusalem in the Mandate period “had approached the problem of dating structural remains by stratigraphy” (1974: 35). 25.  This letter is among the letters of Betty Murray in the PEF archives (Gibson 1999: 139 n. 25; Davis 2008: 58).

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any way impede or stand in the way of her ultimate interpretation of stratigraphic sequences, which had to be the most important consideration when interpretations were eventually made. While Kenyon did set out as a major goal of her work to clarify the topography and history of Jerusalem during seven seasons of excavations, there were certain constraints on her work, and in the end what she was able to achieve was something much different. A large part of the Old City was built up and this meant that she was only able to excavate in open areas that were quite rare, notably in the Armenian Quarter on the west of the city (supervised by Doug Tushingham), 26 in the area of the Muristan (Area C) close to the Church of the Holy Sepulchre, and to the north of the city adjacent to the fortification line known as the Third Wall. Hence (though I am sure Kenyon would have been loath to admit it), like her predecessors Macalister and Duncan and Crowfoot and Fitzgerald, Kenyon was forced to concentrate most of her attention on the Southeast Hill, in the area of the Ophel and the City of David, though she could have worked more on the western slopes of the traditional Mount Zion had she really wanted to. The archaeological work of Kenyon in Jerusalem has come in for a lot of criticism by fellow scholars and by some archaeologists subsequently working in Jerusalem. Their arguments may be summed up as follows: her excavation areas were too small (Mazar 1988: 120–21; cf. Davis 2008: 205); 27 she had an obsession with stratigraphy rather than trying to elucidate architectural remains (Dever 2004: 535); she developed major conclusions regarding the expansion and shrinking of the city during various periods based on “negative evidence” (Barkay 1985–86: 35); and she had little interest in the Islamic and medieval remains of the city. 28 In addition, Kenyon suffered from serious gaps in her knowledge (or perhaps was just dismissive) in regard to the explorations and achievements of her predecessors, on the one hand, and in regard to archaeological work conducted after 1967 and until her death in 1978, on the other. Some of these criticisms are unjust. One cannot, in my opinion, criticize an archaeologist for performing what he or she set out to accomplish and did so successfully. Kenyon had no interest in concentrating her excavations in a single area (in fact, this was largely impossible in some cases in her time, due to land-ownership problems or because of the build-up of modern houses). She also did not want to excavate complete building units but, instead, she wanted to dig deep trenches and establish good stratigraphic sequences in order to clarify the development of the city through time. Admittedly, there were some crucial aspects of the development of Jerusalem that she got wrong, namely, the extent of the expansion of Iron Age II settlement to the Western Hill, which was based on negative evidence (namely, the 26.  The final results of the work in the Armenian Garden were published by Tushingham 1985 (see an alternative interpretation of the finds by Gibson 1987 and the response by Tushingham 1988). 27.  Barkay described Kenyon’s method of digging as a form of “acupuncture” (1985­–86: 35). 28.  It is perhaps telling that in her book Digging Up Jerusalem only 16 pages are devoted to the remains of the Byzantine, Islamic, and medieval periods, whereas she devoted 189 pages to the remains from the Iron Age through the Roman periods.

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absence of stratified Iron Age II pottery at the bottom of her squares), but Kenyon never held a monopoly on interpretations. What counts in the end, however, is a readiness to admit that one can sometimes get things wrong, and in this respect, Kenyon tended to be quite entrenched and adamant in her views (at least in publications) and hardly liked to change her opinions, whatever the evidence facing her. 29 Kenyon, like many other archaeologists, studied and wrote about Jerusalem of the periods that interested her, but she did excavate remains of the later Islamic and medieval periods quite carefully (as is clear from the most recent final publication: Prag 2008). 30 Hopefully, when the full publication of her excavations eventually sees the light of day, Kenyon’s overall contribution to the archaeology of Jerusalem will be better thought of. 31

Conclusions The main question dealt with in this paper is why the British, following the founding of the PEF in 1865, should have focused their archaeological work in Jerusalem and more specifically on the Temple Mount. Partly, it seems, there was a religious motivation at play, though strong attempts were indeed also made, particularly by Grove, to ensure that religious sentiments did not influence the thinking of explorers and that archaeological results were eventually presented impartially. This was possible primarily because of the fact that the early explorations were conducted by men from a disciplined military background, such as Wilson and Warren of the Royal Engineers, rather than by individuals from a scholarly or religious background. However, the desire to elucidate the Bible was very much stated as one of the principal objectives of the exploration activities from the outset. What is quite clear is that a major change in the character of the exploration of ancient Jerusalem occurred in the 19th century, with a fascination for the past of the city, fanciful or otherwise, being replaced by that of a scientific concern for the tangible antiquities of the city. 32 The Ordnance Survey conducted by Wilson in 1864 and 1865 marks this turning point. The ancient past of Jerusalem was no longer a matter for armchair scholarly discourse, turning upon the credibility and background of a given scholar, but had now become a matter for clear-cut scientific rigor, which could only be based on facts obtained in empirical fashion, whether through the taking of exact measurements, photography, or excavations in the ground. Warren’s excavations of 1867–70 undoubtedly changed the scholarly ap29.  In private, however, Kenyon expressed a much greater willingness to accept new evidence, such as for instance the implications arising from the presence of an Iron Age city wall on the Western Hill (Prag 2001: 217). 30.  On the problems of the records and field notes of the Jerusalem expedition: Davis 2008: 210–11. 31.  To date, the following publications have appeared: Tushingham 1985; Franken and Steiner 1990; Eshel and Prag 1995; Steiner 2001; Franken 2005; Prag 2008. 32.  The view put forward by Edward W. Said in his book Orientalism (1978: 166–97), which regards exploration activities, such as those made in Jerusalem, as a tool for imperialist adventures, does not accord well with the evidence as outlined in this article. See, recently, a critical discussion of Said’s approach in Robert Irwin’s For the Lust of Knowing: The Orientalists and Their Enemies (2006: 141–88).

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proach to the subject to such an extent that thereafter all casual discourse on the subject was solely relegated to the domain of religious and travel literature, and scholars became beholden to the exact observations of explorers, such as Schick and others, who were resident in the city at the time of their work. The 20th century, however, marks a shift away from the study of the Temple Mount toward the excavation of sites led on by scholarly debates regarding the situation of the Ophel and the City of David, the dating of its fortifications, and the extent and expansion of the city at different times in its illustrious history. Kathleen Kenyon’s work in the 1960s represents the culmination of this process, with the added bonus of clear stratigraphic data, which one can either accept or ignore, something that was admittedly lacking with the published material derived from earlier excavations by Macalister or Crowfoot. Hence, for example, I was able to provide a new overview and a completely different interpretation (rightly or wrongly) of Kenyon and Tushingham’s results in the Armenian Garden excavations precisely because of the quality of the records and stratigraphic material provided in the final publication (Gibson 1987: 81–96; Tushingham 1988: 142–45). For this reason, I do not believe that recent Israeli excavations have rendered Kenyon’s work in Jerusalem “largely obsolete,” as claimed by Dever (2004: 535), and I fully agree with Prag who wrote that “truly it would be a great loss to ignore the huge amount of evidence accumulated [in the Kenyon excavations]. One can either look at the mass of material and despair; or look with excitement at what further information it can give on this most significant of cities” (1998: 128).

Acknowledgments The research and illustrations for this article were prepared during an archival project undertaken between 1989–1995 by the author at the Palestine Exploration Fund in London, with the help of Pamela Magrill, Fanny Vitto, and Bridget Ibbs. The project was generously supported by the British Library, British Academy, Goldsmith’s Company, Pilgrim’s Trust, British School of Archaeology in Jerusalem (now the Kenyon Institute), Mediterranean Trust, Kress Foundation, Franklin Trust, and with additional help received from Professor Philip J. King and the Earl Kitchener. My thanks are also extended to executive members of the PEF for their assistance, namely Lt. Col. David N. Hall, Stephen Day, Jonathan Tubb, Dr. Yolande Hodson, Dr. David Jacobson, Dr. Tessa Rajak, the late Peter G. Dorrell, and to the Executive Secretaries Dr. Rupert Chapman and Felicity Cobbing.

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Barkay, G. 1985–86  Jerusalem of Old Testament Times: New Discoveries and New Approaches. Bulletin of the Anglo-Israel Archaeological Society 5: 35. Bahat D,. and Broshi, M. 1975 Excavations in the Armenian Garden. Pp. 55–56 in Jerusalem Revealed: Archaeology in the Holy City, 1968–1974, ed. Y. Yadin. Jerusalem: Israel Exploration Society. Ben-Ami, D. and Tchehanovetz, Y. 2008 The Contribution of the Excavations at the “Givati Parking Lot” to the Study of the History of the Early Settlement in the City of David. Pp. 97–111 in City of David: Studies of Ancient Jerusalem, 3, ed. E. Meiron. Jerusalem: Megalim. (Hebrew) Ben-Arieh, Y. 1974 The Catherwood Map of Jerusalem. The Quarterly Journal of the Library of Congress 31/3: 150–60. 1983 The Rediscovery of the Holy Land in the Nineteenth Century. Jerusalem: Magnes. Besant, W. 1886 Twenty-One Years’ Work in the Holy Land (A Record and Summary) June 22, 1865–June 22 1886. London: PEF. Bliss, F. J. 1898 Excavations in Jerusalem, 1894–1897. London: PEF. 1906 The Development of Palestine Exploration, Being the Ely Lectures for 1903. London: Hodder and Stoughton. Broshi, M. 1987 Religion, Ideology and Politics and Their Impact on Palestinian Archaeology. The Israel Museum Journal 6: 17–32. Broshi, M., and Gibson, S. 1994 Excavations along the Western and Southern Walls of the Old City of Jerusalem. Pp. 147–155 in Ancient Jerusalem Revealed, ed. H. Geva. Jerusalem: Israel Exploration Society. Crowfoot, J. W., and G. M. Fitzgerald 1929 Excavations in the Tyropoeon Valley, Jerusalem 1927. APEF 5. London: Palestine Exploration Fund. Davis, M. C. 2008 Dame Kathleen Kenyon: Digging Up the Holy Land. Walnut Creek: Left Coast Press. Dever, W. G. 2004 Kathleen Kenyon (1906–1978). Pp. 525–53 in Breaking Ground: Pioneering Women Archaeologists, ed. G. M. Cohen and M. S. Joukowsky. Ann Arbor: University of Michigan Press. Drower, M. S. 1985 Flinders Petrie: A Life in Archaeology. London: Victor Gollancz. Eshel, I., and Prag, K. 1995 Excavations by K. M. Kenyon in Jerusalem 1961–1967, Vol. IV: The Iron Age Cave Deposits on the South-East Hill and Isolated Burials and Cemeteries Elsewhere. British Academy Monographs in Archaeology 6. Oxford: Oxford University Press. [Finn, E. A.] 1929 Reminiscenses of Mrs. Finn M.R.A.S. Marshall: Morgan and Scott. Franken, H. J. 2005 A History of Pottery and Potters in Ancient Jerusalem: Excavations by K. M. Kenyon in Jerusalem 1961–1967. London: Equinox. Franken, H. J., and Steiner, M. 1990 Excavations in Jerusalem 1961–1967. Vol. II. The Iron Age Extramural Quarter on the South-East Hill. British Academy Monographs in Archaeology 2. Oxford: Oxford University Press.

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Gibson, S. 1987 The 1961–67 Excavations in the Armenian Garden, Jerusalem. PEQ 119: 81–96. 1997 The Holy Land in the Sights of Explorer’s Cameras. Pp. 235–48 in Jerusalem in the Mind of the Western World, 1800–1948, with Eyes to Zion, Vol. 5, ed. Y. Ben-Arieh and M. Davis. Westport: Praeger. 1999 British Archaeological Institutions in Mandatory Palestine, 1917–1948. PEQ 131: 115–43. 2000 Conrad Schick (1822–1901), the PEF and an ‘Archaic Hebrew’ Inscription from Jerusalem. PEQ 132: 113–22. 2001 The Ordnance Survey and the PEF. Pp. 158–9 in, Holy Land in Maps, ed. A. Tishby. Israel Museum Catalogue 459. Jerusalem: Israel Museum. 2003 Jerusalem in Original Photographs 1850–1920. London: Stacey International. 2005 The Pool of Bethesda in Jerusalem and Jewish Purification Practices of the Second Temple Period. Proche-Orient Chrétien 55: 270–93. Gibson, S., and Jacobson, D. M. 1996 A Sourcebook on the Cisterns, Subterranean Chambers and Conduits of the Haram alSharif. BAR Int. Series No. 637. Oxford: Hadrian Books. Goren, H. 1998 The Chase after the Bible: Individuals and Institutions—and the Study of the Holy Land. Pp. 103–15 in Religion, Ideology and Geographical Thought. WSP Kielce Studies in Geography 3, ed. U. Wardenga and W. J. Wilcynski. Kielce: Instytut Geografii. 1999 ‘Go View the Land’: German Study of Palestine in the Nineteenth Century. Jerusalem: Yad Izhak Ben-Zvi. (Hebrew) 2001 Scientific Organizations as Agents of Change: the PEF, the Deutsch Verein zur Erforschung Palästinas and Nineteenth-century Palestine. Journal of Historical Geography 27/2: 153–65. 2002 Sacred, But Not Surveyed: Nineteenth Century Surveys of Palestine. Imago Mundi 54: 87–110. Graves, C. L. 1903 The Life and Letters of Sir George Grove, C.B. London: Macmillan. Hart, I. D. 1965 The Surveys of Palestine. The Royal Engineers Journal September: 214–25. Hallote, R. 2006 Bible, Map and Spade: The American Palestine Exploration Society, Frederick Jones Bliss and the Forgotten Story of Early American Biblical Archaeology. Piscataway: Gorgias Press Howe, K. S. 1997 Revealing the Holy Land: The Photographic Exploration of Palestine. Santa Barbara: Santa Barbara Museum of Art. Irwin, R. 2006 For Lust of Knowing: The Orientalists and their Enemies. London: Penquin. Jacobson, D. M. 1990–91  The Plan of Herod’s Temple. Bulletin of the Anglo-Israel Archaeological Society 10: 36–66. 2003 Charles Warren Vs James Fergusson. Where was the Israelite Temple Located? Biblical Archaeology Review 29/5: 58–69, 84–85. Johns, C. N. 1940 Excavations at the Citadel, Jerusalem, 1934–9. PEQ 72: 1–22 1950 The Citadel, Jerusalem. A Summary of Work Since 1934. Quarterly of the Department of Antiquities 14: 121–90. Jones, Y. 1973 British Military Surveys of Palestine and Syria 1840–41. The Cartographic Journal 10: 29–41.

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Kenyon, K. M. 1967 Jerusalem: Excavating 3000 Years of History. London: Thames and Hudson. 1974 Digging up Jerusalem. London: Benn. Lev, E., and Perry, Y. 2004 Dr Thomas Chaplin, Scientist and Scholar in Ninteenth-Century Palestine. PEQ 136: 151–62. Lipman, V. D. 1988 The Origins of the PEF. PEQ 120: 45–54. Macalister, R. A. S., and Duncan, J. G. 1926 Excavations on the Hill of Ophel, Jerusalem, 1923–1925. APEF 4. London: PEF. Mankin, J. H. 1969 Survey of the Old City of Jerusalem, 1865 and 1935. PEQ 101: 37–39. Mazar, A. 1988 Israeli Archaeologists. Pp. 109–128 in Benchmarks in Time and Culture: Essays in Honor of Joseph A. Callaway, ed. J. F. Drinkard, G. L. Mattingly, and J. M. Miller. Atlanta: Scholars Press. Mazar, B. 1975a The Mountain of the Lord. New York: Doubleday. 1975b The Archaeological Excavations Near the Temple Mount. Pp. 25–40 in Jerusalem Revealed: Archaeology in the Holy City, 1968–1974, ed. Y. Yadin Jerusalem: Israel Exploration Society. Mazar, E. 2007 Preliminary Report on the City of David Excavations 2005 at the Visitors Center Area. Jerusalem: Shalem Press. 2008 The Stepped Stone Structure in the City of David in Light of the New Excavations in Area G. Pp. 25–40 in New Studies on Jerusalem, eds. E. Baruch, A. Levy-Reifer, and A. Faust. Vol. 14. Ramat Gan: Bar Ilan University (Hebrew). Mazar, E., and Mazar, B. 1989 Excavations in the South of the Temple Mount: The Ophel of Biblical Jerusalem. Qedem 29. Jerusalem: Hebrew University Institute of Archaeology. Morrison, W., ed. 1871 The Recovery of Jerusalem: A Narrative of Exploration and Discovery in the City and Holy Land. London: Bentley. Moscrop, J. J. 2000 Measuring Jerusalem: The PEF and British Interests in the Holy Land. London: Leicester University Press. Newman, H. E. 1949 The Ordnance Survey in the Near East. The Royal Engineers Journal, March-June: 64–77. Prag, K. 1998 Re-excavating Jerusalem: the Work of the Joint Expedition, 1961–1967. Bulletin of the Anglo-Israel Archaeological Society 16: 127–29. 2001 Figurines, Figures, and Contexts in Jerusalem and Regions to the East in the Seventh and Sixth Centuries bce. P. 217 in, Studies in the Archaeology of the Iron Age in Israel and Jordan, ed. A. Mazar. JSOTS 331. Sheffield: Sheffield University Press. 2008 Excavations by Kathleen M. Kenyon in Jerusalem 1961–1967, Volume V: Discoveries in Hellenistic to Ottoman Jerusalem. Centenary Volume: Kathleen M. Kenyon 1906–1978. Levant Supplementary Series 7. Oxford: Council for British Research in the Levant and Oxbow Books. Reich, R., and Shukron, E. 2000 The Excavations at the Gihon Spring and Warren’s Shaft System in the City of David.” Pp. 327–39 in Ancient Jerusalem Revealed, ed. H. Geva (expanded edition). Jerusalem: Israel Exploration Society.

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2008 The History of the Archaeological Excavations in the City of David (1867–2007). Pp. 13–41 in City of David: Studies of Ancient Jerusalem, 3, ed. E. Meiron. Jerusalem: Megalim. (Hebrew) Russell, W. H. 1869 A Diary in the East During the Tour of the Prince and Princess of Wales. London: Routledge. Said, E. W. 1978 Orientalism. London: Penquin. Searight, S. 1969 The British in the Middle East. London: Weidenfeld & Nicolson. Schultz, B. 2004 The Archaeological Heritage on the Jerusalem Protestant Cemetery on Mount Zion. PEQ 136: 57–74. Shurman, M. M. 1994 Wilson Bench Marks in the Old City of Jerusalem. PEQ 126: 49–51. Steiner, M. L. 2001 Excavations by Kathleen M. Kenyon in Jerusalem 1961–1967, Volume III: The Settlement in the Bronze and Iron Ages. Copenhagen International Series 9. London: Sheffield Academic Press / Continuum. Tushingham, A. D. 1985 Excavations in Jerusalem 1961–1967, Volume I. Toronto: Royal Ontario Museum. 1988 The 1961–67 Excavations in the Armenian Garden, Jerusalem: A Response. PEQ 120: 142–45. Traill, D. A. 1995 Schliemann of Troy: Treasure and Deceit. New York: St Martin’s Griffin. Warren, C. 1876 Underground Jerusalem: An Account of the Principal Difficulties Encountered in its Exploration and the Results Obtained. London: Murray. 1884 Plans, Elevations, Sections, etc., Shewing the Results of the Excavations at Jerusalem, 1867–70. London: PEF. Warren, C., and Conder, C. R. 1884 The Survey of Western Palestine: Jerusalem Volume. London: PEF. Watson, C. M. 1915 PEF: Fifty Years’ Work in the Holy Land. A Record and Summary, 1865–1915. London: PEF. Webster, G. 1985a Portrait: Elizabeth Anne Finn. Biblical Archaeologist 48: 181–85. 1985b Portrait: Baroness Angela Goergina Burdett-Coutts. Biblical Archaeologist 48: 186–89. Wightman, G. J. 1990–91  Temple Fortresses in Jerusalem, Part II: The Hasmonean Baris and Herodian Antonia. Bulletin of the Anglo-Israel Archaeological Society 10: 7–35. Wilson, C. W. 1880 The Masonry of the Haram Wall. PEFQSt: 9–65. [1866] 1876  Ordnance Survey of Jerusalem Made in the Years 1864 to 1865. Southampton: Her Majesty’s Stationary Office. 1906 Golgotha and the Holy Sepulchre. London: PEF. Young, P. M. 1980 George Grove, 1820–1900: A Biography. London: Macmillan.

The German Protestant Institute of Archaeology Deutsches Evangelisches Institut für Altertumswissenschaft des Heiligen Landes

Ulrich Hübner University of Kiel

Following the visit of German Emperor Wilhelm II to the Near East in 1898, the decision was made in Jerusalem that same year to establish the Deutsches Evangelisches Institut für Altertumswissenschaft des Heiligen Landes (that is, the German Protestant Institute of Archaeology), 1 which was opened in 1903. The plan was designed during the course of a conference of the German Regional Protestant Churches in Eisenach and authorized in Berlin by Wilhelm II. Between 1914 and 1953, multiple research activities were conducted at the institute; however, administration and finances were in a rather poor state. Following World War II, the institute was reopened in Jerusalem and an additional branch was established in Amman (Fritz 1997; 1998; 2000; Hagenow and Fassbeck 1998; Hübner 1999; Neubert-Preine 2003; Strobel 1993; Trensky 1989; Zobel 1981; 1995).

Emperor Wilhelm II’s trip to the Near East in 1898 In 1898, Emperor Wilhelm II visited the Near East and Jerusalem in particular (Carmel and Eisler 1999; Jaschinski and Waldschmidt 2002; Meier 1998; Mirbach 1899; Richter 1997). The ceremonial highlight of this trip was the inauguration of the Church of the Redeemer in the Old City of Jerusalem on Reformation Day (Maurer 1899; Mirbach 1899: 235–57; Ronecker 1998). During the reception that followed, Alexander von Scheider (1845–1909), president of the Bavarian Church Council, made a vow to establish a German institute of archaeology of the Holy Land (Dalman 1905: 14). In the presence of Wilhelm II and representatives of all regional German Protestant churches, von Schneider said: “From the sparking power of the Protestant mind a unanimous wish has sprung in all the present representatives of the German Protestant churches on their trip into the Holy Land, which is that in addition to the Church of the Redeemer being sanctified today, that a home be established for the Protestant Church to cultivate the Christian Protestant archaeology in this city” (Mirbach 1899: 252). This speech received much attention 1.  I would like to thank Mrs. L. Bornemann (Kiel) for the translation into English, Dr. H. Bloedhorn (Tübingen), Bishop Dr. J. Friedrich (Munich), and Oberkirchenrätin C. Coenen-Marx (Hannover) for their assistance and advice. All cited sources are translated into English.

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among the Germans—as did the Emperor’s trip in general. Thus, October 31, 1898 is considered by many as the real “birthday” of the German Protestant Institute of Archaeology (Dalman 1905: 14). The process of establishing the institute took at least five years, from 1898 to 1903. On December 22, 1899, the Protestant Church in Berlin issued an article “dealing with the setting up of a German Protestant foundation for the archaeology of the Holy Land” (Anonymous 1900: 176–79). The article noted that the institute was to be modeled after the two German archaeological institutes in Rome (1829) and Athens (1874). In competition with the École Biblique, founded in 1890, the German Protestant Institute of Archaeology was denominational but produced “scientific research not restricted by religious considerations.” The expenses were to be shared by all German regional churches. In addition, cooperation between the German Society for the Exploration of Palestine (1877) and the new institute was encouraged. It was agreed that they would “work together harmoniously.” One member of the German Society for the Exploration of Palestine was to be on the board of the foundation committee of the institute.

The Church Conference in Eisenach in 1900 In June 1900, the German Protestant Church Conference, which took place every other year beginning in 1853, gathered in the castle in Eisenach (Behrmann 1904: 378–83; Graf 1999; Karg 1961: 41–65; Link 2001). The topic was the German Protestant diaspora. Among the parishes and settlements discussed were the ones in Jerusalem, Bethlehem, and Bet Jala, the German colonies in Jaffa, Sarona, and Haifa, the Jerusalemsverein, the Brotherhood of Herrnhut, the Order of John, and the planned German Protestant Institute of Archaeology in Jerusalem. J. A. von Zahn (1839–1910), the president of the Lutheran Church in Saxony, reminded the audience of the Emperor’s trip in 1898, calling it the “joint pilgrimage of the official representatives of the German regional churches” (Anonymous 1900: 23–29, 161–95), stressing the fact that Wilhelm II had shown the highest respect and approval of founding a German Institute in Jerusalem. He highlighted the lack of and the growing need for a corresponding institution. The German archaeological institutes in Rome and Athens were again named as models, though the new institute in Jerusalem was not to be funded by the state but instead was to be a foundation supported by all regional churches. Von Zahn mentioned the denominational and national competition in the field dedicated to the exploration of the Holy Land and referred to the French Dominicans of the École Biblique as one of their competitors. Just as the Palestine Exploration Fund constituted a model for the establishment of the German Society for the Exploration of Palestine, the École Biblique became a model for the German Protestant Institute of Archaeology. A German Protestant Institute of Archaeology would enhance the “reputation, importance, and influence” of the German Protestant regional churches and their parishes, missions, and institutions in the Holy Land. The education of scientists, clergymen and teachers of religious education would constitute a boon for church

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work, especially religious education in Germany. Von Zahn explained the future structure of the institute, including a director, employees, and scholarships for students. The plan was to establish a library and an archaeological collection as well as to hold public lectures. The purpose of the institute was summarized in one sentence, defining the “historical research, which took on the task of exploring historical truths and the use of the findings in Protestant sobriety, purely for the sake of science without considering church matters.” The relationship they hoped for with the already existing German Society for the Exploration of Palestine was also explained in detail. The German Society for the Exploration of Palestine was praised for its “strictly scientific research” and “its upholding of its interdenominational character” and for “their publications in the form of the journals.” The Zeitschrift des Deutschen Palästina-Vereins and the Mitt(h)eilungen und Nachrichten des Deutschen Palästina-Vereins were especially emphasized. They wished the institute to collaborate “hand in hand” with the Society as a “team.” Confidential talks with E. Kautzsch (1841–1910), the president (1877– 1903) of the German Society for the Exploration of Palestine, indicated the desire to cooperate with the institute (Mathys 2006). After a short debate, all motions were agreed upon. The members of the “Committee for the Palestine Foundation” were soon being elected. F. W. Barkhausen (1831–1903, president of the Protestant Church Council in Berlin) was selected as chairman. A. von Schneider (Schwab 1995) and G. C. C. Behrmann (1846–1911, main parson at Saint Michael’s Church in Hamburg) were elected as members, and D. Hansen (head court chaplain in Oldenburg) as deputy for the representative to be sent by the German Society for the Exploration of Palestine. The founding document was signed on June 19, 1900. The institute’s constitution was approved by the Emperor on December 23, 1901. On May 22, 1902, the executive committee was set up, with Barkhausen as chairman. G. Dalman (1855– 1941) received the document with his appointment as Director of the German Protestant Institute of Archaeology on July 9, 1902 (Männchen 1993: 1–99; 2001; 2003; 2006). On January 12, 1903, the institute moved to its quarters at the former Austrian Consulate, the Nashashibi House on 5 Ethiopia Street (Hübner 2002: figs. 18–19). The first so-called Lehrkurse were already held before the official opening of the institute. These courses gave young academics the opportunity to become acquainted with Palestine and its neighboring countries and they soon constituted one of the main activities of the institute (Hagenow 1999).

The Opening of the German Protestant Institute of Archaeology in Jerusalem in November 1903 The founding and opening of the German Protestant Institute of Archaeology would not have been possible without a number of prerequisites: •  Internal affairs, namely the establishment of the German Empire in 1871. •  Foreign affairs, namely the striving for reform of the Ottoman Empire and the various interests of the European powers with regard to the “sick man on the Bosporus.”

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•  Church policies that aspired to unite all churches in Germany, which became obvious at the Church Conference held in Eisenach, as well as in Palestine under the auspices of the Anglican-Protestant diocese in Jerusalem (1841– 1886) (Lückhoff 1998: 50–164; Raheb 1990: 20–58). •  The numerous German charity institutions in the city, such as the Syrian Orphanage (1860) and the Institutions of Kaiserswerth (since 1854) (Eisler, Haag, and Holtz 2003: 65–80, 85–110). •  Research agendas with regard to the establishment of the two German archaeological institutes in Rome (1829) and Athens (1874) (Anonymous 2004; Meyer 2004), the Palestine Exploration Fund in London in 1865 (Davies 2006), the German Society for the Exploration of Palestine in Wiesbaden in 1877 (Hübner 2006), the École Biblique in Jerusalem in 1890 (Trimbur 2002: 7–50), the branch of the German Society for the Exploration of Palestine also in Jerusalem in 1897 (Eisler 2006), and the Deutsche Orient-Gesellschaft in Berlin in 1898 (Wilhelm 1998), among others, and finally the discovery of the Mesha and Siloam inscriptions in 1864 and 1880. •  The mind-set of the times, growing nationalism and patriotism, a romantic Eurocentric orientalism, and last but not least, a multifaceted biblical pietism in Germany and its neighboring countries (Goren 2003: 167–316; Kirchhoff 2005: 99–357; Mangold 2004: 251–88; Philipp 2006). The first German excavations in Palestine were carried out under H. Guthe (1847– 1936) for the German Society for the Exploration of Palestine on the southeast and southwest hills in Jerusalem in 1881 (Bieberstein 2006; Guthe 1882; Smend 2006). In 1882, G. Schumacher (1857–1925) began surveying the eastern part of Jordan, also under the auspices of the German Society for the Exploration of Palestine (Carmel 2006). Schumacher’s excavation at Megiddo began on April 1, 1903 (Niemann and Lehmann 2006), six months before the official opening of the German Protestant Institute of Archaeology. During the same year, when Schumacher started his excavation at Megiddo and the façade of the Umayyad palace of Qasr al-Mushatta was taken down and transported by train to Beirut via Damascus as a gift from the sultan to Wilhelm II (Enderlein 1987; Enderlein and Meinecke 1992), the German Protestant Institute of Archaeology was opened on November 15, 1903 (Dalman 1903; 1905; 1906; Goren 2003: 347–53; Guthe 1902; Hübner 2001; Anonymous 1902; 1903; Pflanz 1902; 1903: 229–31; Schlicht 1900; Strobel 1988; Urban 1904; Vincent 1904). Among the guests were the German consul, E. Schmidt (1864–1916, consul 1901–16), the British Consul J. Dickson (1846–1906, consul 1890–1906), several German Protestants and Templars, L. B. Paton (1864–1932), and H. Spoer (1873–1951) from the American School of Oriental Research, Franciscans from the Custodia di Terra Santa, Dominicans from the École Biblique, and among the Jewish guests were E. BenYehuda (1855–1922, as editor of the magazine Hashqafa), I. Press (1874–1955, of the Lämelschule), Shimon Rokach (1863–1922), and D. Yellin (1864–1941), and finally representatives of the Greek Orthodox, the Armenian, and the Latin patriarchs (Avi-Yonah 1971; Carmel and Bloedhorn 2003; Dinur 1971; Klausner et al. 1971; Slutsky and Jaffe 1971).

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With the opening of the German Protestant Institute of Archaeology, Germany “entered the competition in the exploration of Palestine,” as stated by Dalman, the first director of the institute (1903–14/1917). The first yearly report, called the Palästinajahrbuch des Deutschen evangelischen Instituts für Altertumswissenschaft des heiligen Landes zu Jerusalem, was published in 1905. Dalman himself published numerous articles in this journal as well as in the Zeitschrift des Deutschen Palästinavereins and the Mitt(h)eilungen und Nachrichten des Deutschen Palästina-Vereins. With these articles he established an important series of essays, namely the Studien aus dem Deutschen evangelischen Institut für Altertumswissenschaft in Jerusalem (1905– 1955), which were written by directors, employees, and student fellows of the institute. The board of the German Protestant Institute of Archaeology welcomed the Paläs­tina­jahrbuch but insisted that it should not compete with the Zeitschrift des Deutschen Palästina-Vereins (especially in the field of scientific reports and essays) and that it should present the perspective of the church on scientific topics for a popular readership. The Zeitschrift des Deutschen Palästina-Vereins was to remain the primary official scientific publication of the German Protestant Institute of Archaeology (Hübner 2006).

The Period between 1914 and 1948 As a consequence of World War I, the institute lacked the resources to continue work in the Holy Land in the same fashion as before the war. After a leave of absence, Dalman did not return to his post as director in Jerusalem, instead taking a position at the University of Greifswald in 1917 (Männchen 1993: 100–129). In 1921, the institute had to leave its quarters on Ethiopia Street. A temporary accommodation for the institute, including its library and the collections, had to be found. Unfortunately, no residential building could be located for this purpose until after World War II. The institute took refuge in the Syrian Orphanage until 1924, which at the time was located in the hospice of the Jerusalem foundation in the Muristan quarter, until then used by the British. Some of the collection was left in the Syrian Orphanage even after 1924. The library was moved temporarily to Amman in 1948. In 1921, Dalman sent most of the collection to Greifswald, including the library, maps, and photographs and the ethnographic, geological and botanical collections. The question of whether the collection belonged to Dalman or the institute remained open. Today, most of the collection is at the Gustaf-Dalman-Institut at the Faculty of Theology of the University of Greifswald (Männchen 1993: 80–82, 108–9; Neumann 1995; Ott 2000: 303; Zobel 1995). After 1921 the provosts of the German Protestant parish of Jerusalem also held the position of director of the German Protestant Institute of Archaeology. They were: A. Alt (1921–22), H. W. Hertzberg (1923–30), E. Rhein (1930–38), J. Doering (1938–54), J. Weigelt (1954–60), and C. Malsch (1960–65). Most were not professional archaeologists and were intensely occupied with their responsibilities as provosts, leaving little time to devote to matters of the institute. However, between

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Fig. 1.  The GPIA / DEIAHL in Amman, Jordan, from the northwest (photo by U. Hübner 1983).

1921 and 1935, Alt made considerable progress on the research of Palestine’s historical geography (Smend 1989: 182–207; Weippert 1978). Between 1932 and 1952, no Lehrkurse were held. But at least several employees were sent on a yearly basis to the German Protestant Institute of Archaeology until 1938. Among them were M. Löhr in 1903 and 1909, H. Gressmann in 1907, P. Kahle in 1910, H. Schmidt in 1911 and 1914, Alt in 1913, E. Sellin in 1926, 1927, 1932, and 1935, and K. Galling in 1935, 1937, and 1938. The Palästina-Jahrbuch was published until 1941. At the very beginning of World War II, all German property in Palestine was confiscated by the British.

The German Protestant Institute of Archaeology after World War II In 1953, the Lehrkurse were reinstituted and held almost on a yearly basis. The position of director was filled again in 1964, initially by M. Noth (1902–68) (Rüters­ wörden 2004; Smend 1989: 255–75). In March 1966, the Institute––with the support of the Volkswagenstiftung––was moved to a new building in the Sheikh Jarakh quarter of East Jerusalem. Surveys and excavations were carried out by Noth and U. Wagner-Lux in Rihab (1966), Madeba (1967), Jerusalem (1970–74), and Gadara (since 1974). A new situation presented itself in 1967. The German Protestant Institute of Archaeology in east Jerusalem was now situated within the West Bank, occupied by Israel. To travel from Jordan to Jerusalem was extremely difficult; and to return

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Fig. 2.  The GPIA / DEIAHL in the “Gärtner-/Canaan-Haus” of Augusta Victoria, Mount Scopus, East Jerusalem, from the south (photo by U. Hübner 2002).

was almost impossible. The German Protestant Institute of Archaeology wanted to maintain its friendly relations with the Hashemite Kingdom of Jordan and continue their archaeological projects at Gadara and Madeba. They also wished to continue to hold their Lehrkurse not just in Israel but also in Jordan, Syria, and Lebanon. This led to the idea of establishing a branch of the German Protestant Institute of Archaeology in Amman. The suggestion was made by Wagner-Lux and the architect E. W. Krüger (1902–1983). A property near the University of Jordan was acquired in 1975, and the building for the institute was erected with the funds of the Volks­wagen­stiftung between 1976 and 1980 (Held 2000; Wagner-Lux 2000). In April 1982, the branch office was officially opened (fig. 1). Since that time, a large number of projects have been and continue to be carried out in cooperation with the German Protestant Institute of Archaeology in Amman, at, among others, Gadara, Abu Snesle in 1990 and 1992, Ain az-Zara, 1985–86 and in 1989, Baja I and III in 1999, Tell Joffiye since 2002, and Tell az-Zera since 2003 (Bienert et al. 2000; Bienert and Weber 1998; Kerner 1994). The journal Occident & Orient, created specifically for the Institute in Amman, was terminated after several years (1996–2004). The Jahrbuch des Deutschen Evangelischen Instituts für Altertumswissenschaft des Heiligen Landes, established by A. Strobel (1930–2006), director of the Institute between 1984 and 1992, was published between 1989 and 2007 and was recently replaced by Jerusalem: Gemeindebrief- und Stiftungsjournal für Gemeinde, Pilger, Touristen, Archäologen, Studierende und Volontäre. The Zeitschrift des Deutschen

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Palästina-Vereins, published by the German Society for the Exploration of Palestine, is together with the former the main publication forum for the German Protestant Institute of Archaeology. In Jerusalem, the Gardener’s House (Canaan House) of Augusta Victoria on Mount Scopus was acquired, renovated, and officially opened on April 26, 1982 (fig. 2) (Mershen and Hübner 2006). Since that time, the German Protestant Institute of Archaeology in Jerusalem has maintained its quarters there (Fritz and Deines 1999; Tishby 2001: 172–73). The excavations at Kinneret (Tell el-Oreime) on the Sea of Galilee between 1982 and 1986 were continued by V. Fritz (director of the institute, 1994–99) (Hübner and Kamlah 2008) under the auspices of the institute and again between 1994 and 1999 (Fritz and Münger 2002).

Recent Developments and Concluding Remarks The German Protestant Institute of Archaeology was established as a religious institution from the outset and was meant to fulfil two goals: to advance the archaeological research of Palestine and to share this with the Church and the larger public. Each director was Protestant, working for and paid by the Protestant Church in Germany (Evangelische Kirche in Deutschland). All of the director’s activities are supervised by a board, and all administrative matters are handled by the German Protestant Church in Hannover. For many decades, the Protestant Church in Germany had financed only the basic costs of personnel and maintenance; research projects of the institute and its branch in Amman had to be financed primarily through external funding. During this time the German Protestant Institute of Archaeology received and still receives support from the German Society for the Exploration of Palestine, among other bodies. When, a few years ago, the Protestant Church in Germany was no longer able to assure the basic funds to maintain the institute, the German Ministry of Foreign Affairs offered to provide roughly one-third of the needed money for several years (1999–2006). At the same time, the branch in Amman cooperated increasingly with the branch of the German Archaeological Institute in Damascus. Since 2007, the German Archaeological Institute in Berlin has taken over the support of the German Protestant Institute of Archaeology from the German Ministry of Foreign Affairs. This affiliation with the German Archaeological Institute is also apparent in the official change of the institutions’ names—the one in Jerusalem as well as the one in Amman—from then on referred to as the “Research Unit of the German Archaeological Institute.” Furthermore, as of 2006, a new constitution of the German Protestant Institute of Archaeology, replacing the one from 1960, specifies that the board has to include one member of the German Archaeological Institute, who is also entitled to vote. These new developments influenced the English version of the Institutes’ name: Deutsches Evangelisches Institut für Altertumswissenschaft des Heiligen Landes, rather than using the correct translation of “German Protestant Institute for the Research in Ancient History and Archaeology of the Holy Land.” According to the conditions of the appointment of the institute’s new director, D. Vieweger, the latter must reside in Jerusalem for six months and fulfil his obli-

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gations as faculty member of the Church College in Wuppertal during the rest of the year. In contrast, the director in Amman, Jutta Häser, has to reside in Jordan throughout the year.

References Anonymous 1900 Protokolle der XXIV. deutschen evangelischen Kirchen-Konferenz, vom 14. bis 20. Juni 1900. Stuttgart. 1902 Das deutsch-evangelische Institut für Altertumskunde. Das Heilige Land 46: 179–80. 1903 Das Deutsch-evangelische Institut in Jerusalem. Die Warte des Tempels 59: 415. 2004 175 Jahre Deutsches Archäologisches Institut 1829–2004. Bericht über die Fest­ veranstaltungen in Berlin. Archäologischer Anzeiger 2: 1–154. Avi-Yonah, M. 1971 s.v. Press, Yeshayahu in Encyclopaedia Judaica 13: 1057. Behrmann, Georg Chr. C. 1904 Erinnerungen. Berlin: Warneck. Bieberstein, K. 2006 Die Grabungen von Hermann Guthe in Jerusalem 1881. Pp. 145–63 in Palaestina exploranda: ����������������������������������������������������������������� Studien zur Erforschung Palästinas im 19. und 20. Jahrhundert anlässlich des 125 jährigen Bestehens des Deutschen Vereins zur Erforschung Palästinas, ed. U. Hübner. Abhandlungen des Deutschen Palästina-Vereins 34. Wiesbaden: Harrassowitz. Bienert, H.-D., and Weber, T. 1998 Mit Bibel und Spaten im Heiligen Land: Die Deutschen Evangelischen Institute in Jerusalem und Amman. Antike Welt 29: 57–65. Bienert, H.-D., et al. 2000 Beyond the Jordan: From Jerusalem to Amman. Das �������������������������������� Deutsche Evangelische Institut für Altertumswissenschaft des Heiligen Landes in Amman. Pp. 239–71 in At the Crossroads: Essays on the Archaeology, History and Current Affairs of the Middle East, ed. H.-D. Bienert and B. Müller-Neuhof. Amman: Economic Press. Carmel, A. 2006 Die württembergische Familie Schumacher in Palästina. Pp. 164–73 in Palaestina exploranda: ����������������������������������������������������������������� Studien zur Erforschung Palästinas im 19. und 20. Jahrhundert anlässlich des 125 jährigen Bestehens des Deutschen Vereins zur Erforschung Palästinas, ed. U. Hübner. Abhandlungen des Deutschen Palästina-Vereins 34. Wiesbaden: Harrassowitz. Carmel, A., and Bloedhorn, H. 2003 Die feierliche Eröffnung des Deutschen Evangelischen Instituts für Altertumswissenschaft des Heiligen Landes, beschrieben von Eliezer Ben-Yehuda. Jahrbuch des Deutschen Evangelischen Instituts für Altertumswissenschaft des Heiligen Landes 8: 7–13. Carmel, A., and Eisler, E. J. 1999 Der Kaiser reist ins Heilige Land: Die Palästinareise Wilhelms II. 1898—Eine illustrierte Dokumentation. Stuttgart: Kohlhammer. Dalman, G. 1903/1999  Konzept der Ansprache anlässlich der Eröffnung des deutschen Evangelischen Instituts für Altertumswissenschaft des Heiligen Landes am 15. November 1903, ed. G. Hagenow. Jahrbuch des Deutschen Evangelischen Instituts für Altertumswissenschaft des Heiligen Landes 6: 29–32. 1905 Entstehung und bisherige Entwicklung des Instituts. Palästinajahrbuch 1: 14–20.

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1906 Jahresbericht des Deutschen Evangelischen Instituts für Altertumswissenschaft des heiligen Landes für das Arbeitsjahr 1905/6. Palästinajahrbuch 2: 1–12. Davies, G. 2006 The Contribution of the Palestine Exploration Fund to Research on the Holy Land. Pp. 53–64 in Palaestina exploranda: Studien zur Erforschung Palästinas im 19. und 20. Jahrhundert anlässlich des 125 jährigen Bestehens des Deutschen Vereins zur Erfor­ schung Palästinas, ed. U. Hübner. Abhandlungen des Deutschen Palästina-Vereins 34. Wiesbaden: Harrassowitz. Dinur, B. 1971 s.v. Yellin, David. in Encyclopaedia Judaica 16: 735–38. Eisler, J. 2006 Die deutschen Palästina-Vereine in Jerusalem und Jaffa und der Zweigverein des Deutschen Vereins zur Erforschung Palästuinas in Jerusalem. Pp. 204–16 in Palaestina exploranda: Studien zur Erforschung Palästinas im 19. und 20. Jahrhundert anlässlich des 125 jährigen Bestehens des Deutschen Vereins zur Erforschung Palästinas, ed. U. Hübner. Abhandlungen des Deutschen Palästina-Vereins 34. Wiesbaden: Harrassowitz. Eisler, J.; Haag, N.; and Holtz, S. 2003 Kultureller Wandel in Palästina im frühen 20. Jahrhundert: Eine Bilddokumentation. Zugleich ein Nachschlagewerk der deutschen Missionseinrichtungen und Siedlungen von ihrer Gründung bis zum Zweiten Weltkrieg. Epfendorf: Bibliotheca Academica. Enderlein, V. 1987 Die Erwerbung der Fassade von Mschatta. Forschungen und Berichte: Staatl. Museen zu Berlin 26: 81–90. Enderlein, V., and Meinecke, M. 1992 Graben – Forschen – Präsentieren: Probleme der Darstellung vergangener Kulturen am Beispiel der Mschatta-Fassade. Jahrbuch der Berliner Museen 34: 137–72. Fritz, V. 1997 s.v. Deutsches Evangelisches Institut für Altertumswissenschaft des Heiligen Landes. in The Oxford Encyclopedia of Archaeology in the Near East 2: 150. 1998 Hundert Jahre Deutsches Evangelisches Institut für Altertumswissenschaft des Heiligen Landes. Pp. 201–8 in “Dem Erlöser der Welt zu Ehre”: Festschrift zum hundertjährigen Jubiläum der Einweihung der evangelischen Erlöserkirche in Jerusalem, ed. K.-H. Ronecker, J. Nieper, and Th. Neubert-Preine, Leipzig: Evangelische Verlagsanstalt. 2000 Für die biblische und kirchliche Vorzeit. Hundert Jahre Deutsches Evangelisches Institut für Altertumswissenschaft des Heiligen Landes. Antike Welt 31: 43–47. Fritz, V., and Deines, R. 1999 Catalogue of the Ossuaries in the German Protestant Institute of Archaeology. Israel Exploration Journal 49: 222–41. Fritz, V., and Münger, S. 2002 Vorbericht über die zweite Phase der Ausgrabungen in Kinneret (Tell el-Orēme) am See Gennesaret, 1994–1999. Zeitschrift des Deutschen Palästina-Vereins 118: 2–32. Goren, H. 2003 “Zieht aus und erforscht das Land”: Die deutsche Palästina-Forschung im 19. Jahrhundert. Schriftenreihe des Instituts für deutsche Geschichte der Universität Tel Aviv 23. Göttingen: Wallstein. Graf, F. W. 1999 Eisenacher Konferenz. in Religion in Geschichte und Gegenwart 2: 1179–80. Guthe, H. 1882 Ausgrabungen bei Jerusalem im Auftrage des deutschen Palästina-Vereins ausgeführt und beschrieben. Zeitschrift des Deutschen Palästina-Vereins 5: 7–204, 271–378.

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1902 Das deutsche evangelische Institut für Altertumswissenschaft des heiligen Landes. Mitteilungen des Deutschen Palästina-Vereins 8: 81–5. Hagenow-Fassbeck, G. 1998 Das Deutsche Evangelische Institut für Altertumswissenschaft des Heiligen Landes. Pp. 71–8 in 100 Jahre Evangelisch-Lutherische Erlöserkirche in Jerusalem: Ausstellungskatalog, ed. T. Neubert-Preine. Jerusalem: Commercial Press. 1999 Liste der Stipendiaten des Deutschen Evangelischen Instituts für Altertumswissenschaft des Heiligen Landes in den Jahren 1903–1998. Jahrbuch des Deutschen Evangelischen Instituts für Altertumswissenschaft des Heiligen Landes 6: 33–48. Held, H. J. 2000 Zur Einweihung des neuen Hauses 1982 in Amman oder ein kleiner Lehrkurs in Jordanien. Pp. 273–77 in At the Crossroads: Essays on the Archaeology, History and Current Affairs of the Middle East, ed. H.-D. Bienert and B. Müller-Neuhof. Amman: Economic Press. Hübner, U. 1999 Deutsches Evangelisches Institut für Altertumswissenschaft des Heiligen Landes. in Religion in Geschichte und Gegenwart 2: 714–15. 2001 Der Deutsche Verein zur Erforschung Palästinas und das Deutsche Evangelische Institut für Altertumswissenschaft des Heiligen Landes in Jerusalem: die Anfänge einer Beziehung. Jahrbuch des Deutschen Evangelischen Instituts für Altertumswissenschaft des Heiligen Landes 7: 51–60. 2006 Der Deutsche Verein zur Erforschung Palästina: Seine Vorgeschichte, Gründung und Entwicklung bis in die Weimarer Zeit. Pp. 1–52 in Palaestina exploranda: Studien zur Erforschung Palästinas im 19. und 20. Jahrhundert anlässlich des 125 jährigen Bestehens des Deutschen Vereins zur Erforschung Palästinas, ed. U. Hübner. Abhandlungen des Deutschen Palästina-Vereins 34. Wiesbaden: Harrassowitz. Hübner, U., and Kamlah, J. 2008 Volkmar Fritz (1938–2007). Zeitschrift des Deutschen Palästina-Vereins 124: 84–88. Jaschinski, K., and Waldschmidt, J., eds. 2002 Des Kaisers Reise in den Orient 1898. Gesellschaft – Geschichte – Gegenwart 27. Berlin: Trafo-Verlag. Karg, T. 1961 Von der Eisenacher Kirchenkonferenz zum Deutschen Evangelischen Kirchenbund. ���� Dissertation Jur.D. unpubl. Universität Freiburg im Breisgau. Kerner, S. 1994 The German Protestant Institute for Archaeology and Other German Projects in Jordan. Pp. 49–63 in The Near East in Antiquity, Vol. IV, ed. S. Kerner. Amman: Al Kutba. Kirchhoff, M. 2005 Text zu Land: Palästina im wissenschaftlichen Diskurs 1865–1920. Schriften des Simon-Dubnow-Instituts 5. Göttingen: Vandenhoeck und Ruprecht. Klausner, J., et al. 1971 s.v. Ben Yehuda, Eliezer. in Encyclopaedia Judaica 4: 564–69. Link, C. 2001 Kirchenausschuss, Deutscher Evangelischer. in Religion in Geschichte und Gegenwart 4: 1051. Lückhoff, M. 1998 Anglikaner und Protestanten im Heiligen Land: Das gemeinsame Bistum Jerusalem (1841–1886). Abhandlungen des Deutschen Palästina-Vereins 24. Wiesbaden: Harrassowitz, 1998. Männchen, J. 1993 Gustaf Dalman als Palästinawissenschaftler in Jerusalem und Greifswald 1902–1941. Abhandlungen des Deutschen Palästina-Vereins 9,2. Wiesbaden: Harrassowitz.

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2001 Gustaf Dalmans Weg nach Jerusalem. Jahrbuch des Deutschen Evangelischen Instituts für Altertumswissenschaft des Heiligen Landes 7: 61–8. 2003 Das heilige Land: Denkmal der heiligen Geschichte – Gustaf Dalmans Konzeption von Palästinawissenschaft, Pp. 78–87 in Zeichen aus Text und Stein: Studien auf dem Weg zu einer Archäologie des Neuen Testaments, ed. S. Alkier, and J. Zangenberg. Texte und Arbeiten zum neutestamentlichen Zeitalter 42. Tübingen / Basel: Francke. 2006 Gustaf Dalman und der Deutsche Verein zur Erforschung Palästinas. Pp. 227–34 in Palaestina exploranda: Studien zur Erforschung Palästinas im 19. und 20. Jahrhundert anlässlich des 125 jährigen Bestehens des Deutschen Vereins zur Erforschung Palästinas, ed. U. Hübner. Abhandlungen des Deutschen Palästina-Vereins 34. Wiesbaden: Harrassowitz. Mangold, S. 2004 Eine “weltbürgerliche Wissenschaft”—Die deutsche Orientalistik im 19. Jahrhundert. Pallas Athene 11. Wiesbaden: Steiner. Mathys, H.-P. 2006 Emil Kautzsch (1841–1910). Pp. 65–88 in Palaestina exploranda: Studien zur Erforschung Palästinas im 19. und 20. Jahrhundert anlässlich des 125 jährigen Bestehens des Deutschen Vereins zur Erforschung Palästinas, ed. U. Hübner. Abhandlungen des Deutschen Palästina-Vereins 34. Wiesbaden: Harrassowitz. Maurer, H. 1899 Briefe von der Festfahrt zur Einweihung der Erlöserkirche zu Jerusalem im Oktober und November 1898. Herborn: Nassauischer Kolportageverein. Meier, A. 1998 Die kaiserliche Palästinareise 1898: Theodor Herzl, Großherzog Friedrich I. von Baden und ein deutsches Protektorat in Palästina. Konstanzer Schriften zur Schoáh und Judaica 5. Konstanz: Hartung-Gorre-Verlag. Mershen, B., and Hübner, U. 2006 Tawfiq Canaan and His Contribution to the Ethnography of Palestine. Pp. 250–64 in Palaestina exploranda: Studien zur Erforschung Palästinas im 19. und 20. Jahrhundert anlässlich des 125 jährigen Bestehens des Deutschen Vereins zur Erforschung Palästinas, ed. U. Hübner. Abhandlungen des Deutschen Palästina-Vereins 34. Wiesbaden: Harrassowitz. Meyer, H. 2004 Der Rechtsstatus des Deutschen Archäologischen Instituts: Rechtsgutachten. Archäologischer Anzeiger 2. Halbband, Pp. 155–202. Mirbach, E. Von, ed. 1899 Das deutsche Kaiserpaar im heiligen Land im Herbst 1898, Mit allerhöchster Ermächtigung Seiner Majestät des Kaisers und Königs bearbeitet nach authentischen Berichten und Akten. Berlin: E. S. Mittler. Neubert-Preine, T. 2003 The Founding of German Protestant Institutions in Jerusalem during the Reign of Kaiser Wilhelm II. Pp. 27–40 in Germany and the Middle East: Past, Present, and Future, ed. H. Goren. Jerusalem: Magnes. Neumann, T. 1995 Die fotografische Sammlung des Gustaf-Dalman-Instituts. Pp. 61–71 in Palästina­ wissenschaft in Deutschland: Das Gustaf-Dalman-Institut Greifswald 1920–1995, ed. C. Hardmeier and T. Neumann. Berlin: de Gruyter. Niemann, M. H., and Lehmann, G. 2006 Gottlieb Schumacher, Carl Watzinger und der Beginn der Ausgrabungen in Megiddo: Rückblick und Konsequenzen nach 100 Jahren. Pp. 174–203 in Palaestina exploranda: Studien zur Erforschung Palästinas im 19. und 20. Jahrhundert anlässlich des 125 jährigen Bestehens des Deutschen Vereins zur Erforschung Palästinas,

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Ott, C. 2000 The Songs and Musical Instruments of Ottoman Jerusalem. Pp. 301–16 in Ottoman Jerusalem. The Living City: 1517–1917, ed. S. Auld and R. Hillenbrand. London: St. Edmundsbury Press. Pflanz, P. 1902 Deutsches evangelisches Institut für Altertumswissenschaft des heiligen Landes. Neueste Nachrichten aus dem Morgenlande 46: 128–31. 1903 Verlassen, nicht vergessen. Das heilige Land und die deutsch-evangelische Liebesarbeit. Zum fünfzigjährigen Jubelfest des Jerusalems-Verein. Neu-Ruppin: Jerusalems-Verein. Philipp, T. 2006 Deutsche Forschung zum zeitgenössischen Palästina vor dem Ersten Weltkrieg. Pp. 217–26 in Palaestina exploranda: Studien zur Erforschung Palästinas im 19. und 20. Jahrhundert anlässlich des 125 jährigen Bestehens des Deutschen Vereins zur Erforschung Palästinas, ed. U. Hübner. Abhandlungen des Deutschen Palästina-Vereins 34. Wiesbaden: Harrassowitz. Raheb, M. 1990 Das reformatorischer Erbe unter den Palästinensern. Die Lutherische Kirche. Geschichte und Gestalten 11. Gütersloh: Gütersloher Verlagshaus G. Mohn. Richter, J. S. 1997 Die Orientreise Kaiser Wilhelms II. 1898: Eine Studie zur deutschen Außenpolitik an der Wende zum 20. Jahrhundert. Studien zur Geschichtsforschung der Neuzeit 9. Hamburg: Kovač. Ronecker, K.-H., J. Nieper, and T. Neubert-Preine 1998 “Dem Erlöser der Welt zu Ehre”: Festschrift zum 100 jährigen Jubiläum der evangelischen Erlöserkirche in Jerusalem. Leipzig: Evangelische Verlagsanstalt. Rüterswörden, U., ed. 2004 Martin Noth—aus der Sicht der heutigen Forschung. Biblisch-Theologische Studien 58. Neukirchen-Vluyn: Neukirchener Verlag. Schlicht, C. 1900 Das Deutsche Evangelische Institut für Alterthumswissenschaft des heiligen Landes in Jerusalem. Neueste Nachrichten aus dem Morgenlande 44: 147–49. Schwab, U. 1995 Schneider, Alexander von. in Biographisch-Bibliographisches Kirchenlexikon 9: 536. Slutsky, Y., and Jaffe, B. 1971 s.v. Rokach, Shimon, in Encyclopaedia Judaica 14: 226. Smend, R. 1989 Deutsche Alttestamentler in drei Jahrhunderten. Göttingen: Vandenhoeck und Ruprecht. 2006 Hermann Guthe (1849–1936). Pp. 129–144 in Palaestina exploranda: Studien zur Erforschung Palästinas im 19. und 20. Jahrhundert anlässlich des 125 jährigen Bestehens des Deutschen Vereins zur Erforschung Palästinas, ed. U. Hübner. Abhandlungen des Deutschen Palästina-Vereins 34. Wiesbaden: Harrassowitz. Strobel, A. 1988 Die Errichtung des Instituts für Altertumswissenschaft. Pp. 158–61 in Conrad Schick: Ein Leben für Jerusalem, ed. A. Strobel. Fürth: Flacius. 1993 The Deutsches Evangelisches Institut für Altertumswissenschaft des Heiligen Landes. Pp. 17–9 Biblical Archaeology Today 1990, ed. A. Biran and J. Aviram. Jerusalem: Israel Exploration Society. Tishby, A. 2001 The Holy Land in Maps. Israel Museum Catalogue 458. Jerusalem: Israel Museum.

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Trensky, M. 1989 Das Deutsche Evangelische Institut für Altertumswissenschaft des Heiligen Landes. Jahrbuch des Deutschen Evangelischen Instituts für Altertumswissenschaft des Heiligen Landes 1: 9–14. Trimbur, D. 2002 Une École française à Jérusalem: De l’École pratique d’Études bibliques des Dominicains à l’École Biblique et Archéologique Française de Jérusalem. Mémoire dominicaine 5. Paris: Cerf. Urban, M. 1904 Die Stiftung für Altertumswissenschaft im heiligen Lande. Deutsch-Evangelisch 4: 91–92. Vincent, H. 1904 Inauguration de l’Institut archéologique allemand. Revue Biblique 13: 100–105. Wagner-Lux, U. 2000 The Early Years of the German Protestant Institute of Archaeology in Amman. Occident and Orient 5/1–2: 4–5. Weippert, M. 1978 s.v. Alt, Albrecht (1883–1956). Theologische Realenzyklopädie 2: 303–5. Wilhelm, G., ed. 1998 Zwischen Tigris und Nil: 100 Jahre Ausgrabungen der Deutschen Orient-Gesellschaft in Vorderasien und Ägypten. Mainz: Zabern. Zobel, H.-J. 1981 Geschichte des Deutschen Evangelischen Instituts für Altertumswissenschaft des Heiligen Landes von den Anfängen bis zum Zweiten Weltkrieg. Zeitschrift des Deutschen Palästina-Vereins 97: 1–11. 1995–95  Jahre Deutsches Evangelisches Institut für Altertumswissenschaft des Heiligen Landes in Jerusalem (75 Jahre Gustaf-Dalman-Institut in Greifswald). Pp. 1–11 in Palästinawissenschaft in Deutschland: Das Gustaf-Dalman-Institut Greifswald 1920– 1995, ed. C. Hardmeier, and T. Neumann. Berlin: de Gruyter.

The American Archaeological Presence in Jerusalem: Through the Gates of the Albright Institute Joan R. Branham Providence College

Introduction The American archaeological presence in Jerusalem has appeared in multiple and disparate guises since the 19th century, from the Protestant missionary, Holy Land adventurer, and tour guide for pilgrims, to the geographical surveyor, trained archaeologist, and scholar of biblical literature. Within this range of evangelistic, thrill-seeking, and academic approaches to Jerusalem, schools of thought have risen to power and fallen into ruin with the emergence of new data, changing historical methods and theories, and advances in dating technologies. In this paper, I will attempt to give a brief yet broad historical survey of key American contributions to the archaeological research of Jerusalem and the region over the past 150 years. A number of recent and important publications precede me in this endeavor, and I am indebted to the works of P. King (1983), R. Hallote (2006, 2007), B. Long (2003), J. Blakely (2001), J. Davis (1996), N. A. Silberman (2003), and others whom I will mention in the course of this essay. Recurrent in many of these assessments is the prominent and transformative role played by one significant American institution: the W. F. Albright Institute of Archaeological Research located in Jerusalem (fig. 1). Established over a century ago as the American School of Oriental Research, the Albright Institute is recognized today as the oldest American research center in the Middle East dedicated to the scholarly examination of the Near East from prehistory to the early Islamic period. 1 It gained its current name from William Foxwell Albright, who served as the Institute’s director during the 1920s and 1930s and who is acknowledged by many as the “father of biblical archaeology.” 2 Following in Albright’s footsteps, a number of archaeologists and historians—Americans, Europeans, Israelis, and Palestinians—have passed through the gates of the Albright Institute with the goal of deciphering Jerusalem and its surrounding regions. As a research center embedded in the Jerusalem landscape— geographically, intellectually, and communally—the Albright Institute continues to exercise a substantial impact on scholarly understandings of Jerusalem and its historical context. Author’s note: I thank T. Barako, D. Frankfurter, S. Freyne, S. Gitin, A. McGowan, L. Nasrallah, and L. Wills for their helpful readings, comments, and conversations during the writing of this paper. 1.  For a succinct history of the Albright Institute, see Gitin 1997: 62–63. 2.  Many have noted this; see for example Dever 2001: 56.

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Fig. 1.  The W. F. Albright Institute of Archaeological Research in Jerusalem (drawing by Linda Lundbom; reproduced by permission of the AIAR).

The history of the American archaeological presence in Jerusalem falls conveniently along the temporal divide of the 19th and 20th centuries with the founding of the Jerusalem School (later to become the Albright Institute) in 1900. This chronological framework provides us with a structure in which to pursue our inquiry, but it must be emphasized that there is no single, linear, evolutionary, or progressive narrative to trace; rather, shifts, oscillations, and lacunae mark the way. Moreover, in an essay of this length I will not pretend to give a comprehensive listing of every American engaged in the archaeology of Jerusalem (or their many international collaborators) nor cite every text written on the subject. I do, however, hope to do two things: point out some of the major American figures who have given shape to the study of Jerusalem’s archaeology and identify three paradigms that emerge within the historical record to describe American activity in the area. The first paradigm is associated with methods used by many Americans during the 19th century—such as Edward Robinson—exposing what I would call an “archaeology as apologetic” paradigm—that is, an approach that subordinates scientific aims to the service of religious ones. Here, material evidence is subsumed into a wider theological construct in order to support claims for religious truths. A second paradigm materializes with the onset of the 20th century and is directly linked to the American School in Jerusalem and W. F. Albright himself. In this paradigm, the earlier asymmetrical relationship between religion and archaeology is thrown into a more reciprocal dynamic that might be characterized as an

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“archaeology as dialectic” paradigm. In other words, a conversation takes place between “science” and “story” as well as an attempt to synthesize the two. In a nutshell, the discipline of “biblical archaeology” is born and nurtured through the efforts of W. F. Albright, his students, and the American School in Jerusalem; it represents to this day the overwhelming American contribution to the understanding of Jerusalem and its surroundings. Within this section of the essay, I also point out some intriguing moments of historical intersection between the excavation of the city of Jerusalem and the specific physical property of the Albright Institute itself. Finally, a more recent paradigm—or I should say paradigms—may be discernible in the last quarter of the 20th century Fig. 2.  Edward Robinson 1794–1863 and beginning of the 21st. Here, a self- (reproduced by permission of Union conscious acknowledgment of archaeolo- Archives of the Burke Library at Union gy’s value-laden past marks the discipline, Theological Seminary in the City of New especially for a site as historically fraught York). as Jerusalem. Drawing from––yet transcending––a number of recent schools of thought, this approach wears lenses with a much larger methodological and geographical scope than scholarship may have worn at mid-century, but perhaps with a less distinct focus. For lack of a better description, one might call this an “archaeology as pluralistic” approach because it accommodates multiple methods and perspectives, such as recognizing the importance of gender in the archaeological record, using new technologies for establishing chronology, and generating projects that are not so much “site-specific” as regional in scope. It therefore accommodates compound and complex historical reconstructions of the past, cultivating dialogue and interchange among diverse national, religious, and ethnic groups. In this paradigm, Jerusalem is understood within its larger geographical context and in relation to vast cultural and political exchanges within the larger Mediterranean basin and beyond. The Albright Institute currently represents this sort of hub of investigation in the city of Jerusalem. As a locus for scholarly inquiry spanning more than a century, the Albright Institute may be seen to have risen out of the first paradigm, been defined by the second paradigm, and now acts as an agent of the third. Thus, the Albright Institute serves as a virtual barometer for shifting paradigms over the last 150 years, indexing, witnessing, reflecting, and participating in the transformations that mark the American archaeological presence in Jerusalem.

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Fig. 3.  Robinson’s Arch photographed by Frank Mason Good (copyright © Courtauld Institute of Art; reproduced by permission).

The 19th Century: An Apologetic Paradigm American archaeology in Jerusalem during the 19th century took varied forms, from the visual and literary mapping of sites through photography, drawings, and diary entries to scientific surveys and excavations. The leading American pioneer in the scientific exploration of Jerusalem was E. Robinson (1794–1863), a professor of biblical literature trained at Andover Theological Seminary in Massachusetts (fig. 2) (King 1983: 1–5). Robinson traveled to Palestine in 1838 and 1852, two journeys that would serve as the basis for his monumental three-volume composition, Biblical Researches in Palestine and Adjacent Countries (Robinson 1856 3; King 1975: 55–65; Williams 1999). As early as 1842, after the appearance of just the first two volumes, Robinson’s meticulous methods of surveying the geography, measuring sites, analyzing Arabic names and linguistic clues, and recording his observations in extensive detail brought notice from the Royal Geographical Society and he was awarded their Patron’s Gold Medal (Davis 2004: 4). 3.  The first two volumes appeared in 1841 after his first trip in 1838; these appeared again in 1856 together with an added third volume after his 1852 trip.

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Fig. 4.  Michael AviYonah’s model of the Herodian Temple, showing arched entrance identified by Edward Robinson (courtesy, www .HolyLandPhotos.org).

One of Robinson’s most famous discoveries in Jerusalem has come to be called “Robinson’s Arch”—a huge mass of stones projecting to this day from the southwestern corner of the Temple Mount wall (fig. 3). Robinson writes that he initially thought these “large stones jutting out from the western wall. . . seemed to be the effect of a bursting of the wall from some mighty shock or earthquake” (Robinson 1856: 287). But upon reexamination, and in consultation with the primary sources—not the Bible this time, but Josephus—Robinson confirms their intentional placement and identified the stones as “the commencement or foot of an immense arch” (Robinson: 1856: 287–88; Gibson 2003: 88–90) used in the Herodian period to support a structure leading from the western perimeter. This interpretation has contributed significantly to the understanding of Jerusalem’s 1st-century Temple Mount area and its points of access. It has also served as a basis for Jerusalem reconstructions, such as Michael Avi-Yonah’s model of the Herodian Temple in fig. 4 (Ritmeyer 2006: 15). Robinson’s work on Jerusalem—as well as other locations from Egypt and the Sinai to the Dead Sea and the Galilee—serves as an exemplar of systematic study of topography (Kuklick 1996: 20, 155). Yet, like his less scientific contemporaries, his explorations were explicitly and unapologetically linked to his religious convictions, as evidenced in his preface to the final printing of the volumes. Robinson writes: The author now lays before the Christian public the present work, comprising the observations made during his two visits to the Holy Land. . . . May the Great Head of

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Fig. 5.  Barclay’s Gate: lintel over doorway from Herodian structure in Jerusalem (photo: author). the Church cause these volumes still further to subserve the high interests of Biblical learning and religious truth (Robinson 1856: 1, vi).

Robinson’s approach reveals a subordination of scientific ends to religious ones and exemplifies a certain tension between archaeology as science and archaeology as religious vocation that often typifies this period. A number of other 19th-century examples illustrate this approach to varying degrees. In the 1850s, James T. Barclay became the first appointee of the American Christian Missionary Society of the Disciples of Christ and went to Jerusalem on a mission to the Jews (Blowers 1993: 494–513). About a decade after Robinson’s arch discovery, Barclay gained access to the Temple Mount and identified a lintel that once formed another entrance to the Herodian Temple complex, now called Barclay’s Gate—currently part of the women’s section of the Western Wall and visible in fig. 5 (Ritmeyer 2006: 15; Blowers 1993: 497; Hallote 2007: 28; Gibson 2003: 97). Barclay was one of the first Americans doing serious photographic work in Jerusalem, documenting the city’s monuments and then showing them in panoramic display in the United States (Hallote 2007: 28; Davis 1996: 73). Rachel Hallote has

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Fig. 6.  “Women Grinding at the Mill” from Hurlbut and Kent, Palestine Through the Stereoscope (courtesy, The Pitts Theology Library, Candler School of Theology, Emory University).

recently argued that, in comparison to their European counterparts, Americans excelled in the use of photography as a distinct approach toward the archaeology of Jerusalem and the Holy Land (Hallote 2007: 26). While many of these efforts were aimed at documenting the archaeological record—such as those made outside of Jerusalem by the American Palestine Exploration Society 4—others were more commercial in origin. For example, in 1881, the American Colony Photo Division commissioned photographers to take pictures that were to be sold as prints and later as picture postcards, but to this day they are noted for their archaeological value (Hallote 2007: 32–34; Gibson 2003: 170–71). The marriage of Holy Land archaeo-photo documentation and personal religious practice characterized a number of American expeditions to Jerusalem during the last decade of the 19th century. The American photographer R. E. M. Bain joined up with Protestant ministers J. Vincent and J. W. Lee to document the life of Jesus in Jerusalem and the Galilee in their famous 1894 publication, Earthly Footsteps of the Man of Galilee (Hallote 2007: 29). Burke Long has written eloquently and at length on “Protestant Christian renderings of the Holy Land,” as well as the pseudo-science deployed in such ventures. He points out that Earthly Footsteps discloses up-front that the authors define their archaeological methods and photographic equipment as “harmless, scientific instruments” used to stake out Christian territory (Long 2003: 53; Davis 1996: 27–52). This is similar to the approach used by two other Americans, J. L. Hurlbut and C. F. Kent, who documented Jerusalem and Palestine in their Biblical Geography 4. APES, founded by R. D. Hitchcock (a colleague of Robinson’s), carried out photographic documentation in 1870–84, not so much on Jerusalem, but focused on areas east of the Jordan River. See Hallote’s fuller survey of American photography (2007: 32).

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and History, published in 1900 (Long 2003: 89). Through the use of 200 stereoscopic photographs (such as fig. 6), these records are as much ethnographic studies of what they encountered in their travels as geographic or archaeological. Long has discussed this form of “geopiety” as an effort not only to document the sacred landscape but to document the “non-Biblical other” currently inhabiting it (2003: 108–29). A possible exception to the 19th-century apologetic paradigm is that of F. J. Bliss (1857–1939; fig. 7). Bliss came from an American missionary family, but through his on-site archaeological training with W. M. Flinders Petrie helped to set the standards for modern archaeological methods and research in Jerusalem. Bliss Fig. 7.  Frederick Jones Bliss 1857–1939 (courtesy, The worked for the British PalesPalestine Exploration Fund, London). tine Exploration Fund digging at Tell el-Hesi in 1890 for two years and then moved to Jerusalem with an assignment to trace the southern and eastern walls of the city during the Herodian period. He excavated and photographed Jerusalem from 1894 to 1897, assisted by the Scottish architect A. Dickie, and often used bold yet controversial underground tunneling methods to avoid disturbing historical edifices and properties above ground (Hallote 2006: 121–30; Davis 2004: 32; Pixner 1997: 22–31, 64–66; Gibson and Jacobson 1994: 150–60). Bliss’s final report on Jerusalem of 1898 included detailed descriptions, accurate plans, and extensive photographs of Jerusalem. Hallote, in her book dedicated to Bliss and the American exploration of Palestine—Bible, Map, and Spade—has called Bliss “a crossover figure” caught between the missionary and archaeological goals of the period (Hallote 2006: 2–3). Long after Bliss’s death, W. F. Albright would write in an entry for the Dictionary of American Biography that Bliss was “the father of Palestinian archaeology” (Albright 1965: 44–45), attesting to Bliss’s prominent place in the history of American archaeologists in Jerusalem and to the advances his approach brought to the field, paving the way to archaeological practices of the 20th century (Hallote 2006: 1).

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Figs. 8–10.  The American School in Jerusalem under construction and newly opened in 1925 (courtesy, American Schools of Oriental Research).

The 20th Century: A Dialectic Paradigm Albright—The Institute A transitional moment in the history of the American archaeological presence in Jerusalem occurred in 1895 when J. H. Thayer—President of the Society of Biblical Literature and Exegesis and a Harvard professor of New Testament—delivered a speech calling for the establishment of an American School in Palestine. He noted that the “French Catholic School” had already beaten Americans to the punch and urged his compatriots to follow in the footsteps of Robinson and others in the exploration of the Holy Land, specifically noting that this would hold great “promise of usefulness alike to Biblical learning and missionary work” (Long 2003: 132; King 1983: 25). Within five years, at the turn of the new century, the American School set up shop in Jerusalem.

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Fig. 11.  William Foxwell Albright, 1891–1971 (photograph by Fabian Bachrach, courtesy Southern Baptist Theological Seminary Archives).

Fig. 12.  Excavations in front of the Albright Institute in 1927 (courtesy, American Schools of Oriental Research).

Initially founded in 1900 as the American School of Oriental Research (ASOR) in Palestine, the newly formed American presence did not originally have a permanent site, and for some 20 years moved around to a number of different locations, renting space for research and classes that were conducted at that time. This changed in 1921, when ASOR was incorporated and became the American Schools of Oriental Research, and construction began soon afterward on an edifice (figs. 8–10) under the auspices of a generous donor after whom the structure was initially named: the Jane Dows Nies Memorial Building (Blakely 2001: 127; King 1983: 74). The building was finished in 1925 and came to be known widely as ASOR’s Jerusalem School. Later additions and renovations were made in 1930, 1985, 2003, and 2009. The construction of the Jerusalem School took place under the supervision of its director—one William Fox Albright (fig. 11)—hence the many publications dedicated to the so-called “House that Albright Built.” 5 But it was not until 1970 that the W. F. Albright Institute of Archaeological Research was incorporated as a separate body from ASOR and the building was formally named after Albright. I will return to Albright and his contribution in a moment, but I would like to make a small detour here in order to point to a number of Jerusalem excava5.  See for example the entire volume of Near Eastern Archaeology devoted to “The House that Albright Built,” and especially Gitin 2002: 5–10. See also Dever 1993: 25–35 and Blakely 2001: 125–237.

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Fig. 13.  Plan of 1972–74 excavations of “third wall” in proximity to Albright Institute (reproduced by permission of E. Netzer).

tions that took place at the Jerusalem School’s own doorstep, literally putting it on the archaeological map. In the 1920s and 30s, while the Jerusalem School was being established—physically and organizationally—excavations in proximity to it revealed important configurations of Jerusalem in the Second Temple and Early Byzantine periods. The first excavation of substantial importance took place in 1925–27 (and again in 1940) when E. L. Sukenik and L. A. Mayer excavated a wall north of Jerusalem’s Old City that ran directly up to and along the property line of the Jerusalem School (fig. 12) (Albright 1925: 19–21; Butin 1927: 1–3; Sukenik 1927: 8–9). Albright, who was director at the time, actively supported the Jerusalem excavation and wrote a number of reports about its progress in the Bulletin of the American Schools of Oriental Research (BASOR) and Jewish Quarterly Review. A scholarly debate arose from the wall’s discovery as to whether or not it was the one Josephus described as being built by Agrippa I as a northern defense or a wall built later, when Titus laid siege to Jerusalem. Fifty years later, still without scholarly consensus, in 1972–74, excavations were continued by S. Ben-Arieh and E. Netzer (1979: 140–41). As seen in their reconstruction (fig. 13), near the Albright Institute a number of towers were revealed on the northern face of the wall, indicating that it was intended to face the north, thereby establishing its date to the time of Agrippa I and not as a wall built by Titus to face inward, toward the Old City (Broshi 1975: 1, 18–21). A large stone of Jerusalem’s Third Wall is still visible in the back garden area of the Albright Institute, and portions of the wall can be seen every two years in front of the Albright when the city opens up the street to do maintenance work. Another Jerusalem excavation took place directly on the grounds of the Albright Institute in 1932 when a series of vaults and rooms with skeletons, pottery, and coins was discovered in the back of the building under the tennis courts, now the Albright’s current parking lot (figs. 14–16). The work was carried out by staff of the Jerusalem School and the finds reported in 1932 in BASOR by M. Burrows,

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Figs. 14–16.  1932 excavations and findings at the back of the Albright Institute near tennis courts (courtesy American Schools of Oriental Research).

the director of the Jerusalem School at that time. In collaboration with colleagues from the British School and the École Biblique, Burrows dated the finds to the late 5th and early 6th centuries based on the coins and pottery found there. Because of epigraphic and numismatic evidence found within the tombs, Burrows speculated that the group could have been made up of Monophysite monks. He writes in BASOR, no doubt with some amusement, “Can it be that our grounds harbored in those days a monastery of heretics?” (Burrows 1932: 35). These combined ex-

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Fig. 17.  William Foxwell Albright (courtesy American Schools of Oriental Research).

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Fig.18.  Ruth Norton Albright (courtesy William Dever).

cavations revolved around the property of today’s Albright Institute and help to illuminate the ancient landscape of Jerusalem from the Roman through the Early Byzantine periods. It is, however, to the very discipline of biblical archaeology that emerged from and revolved around the Albright Institute and Albright himself that I now turn. Albright—The Man Any discussion of the American contribution to the archaeology of Jerusalem and the region must give serious consideration to the formation of biblical archaeology as a discipline and the giant figure who developed it, William Foxwell Albright (1891–1971) (figs. 11, 17). Albright was born in Chile to Protestant missionary parents and came from an evangelical Methodist religious background. He has been referred to as a brilliant philologist who taught himself ancient and modern languages, and at the early age of 12 had memorized every book on ancient history and archaeology he could lay his hands on (Wiseman 1972: 346). Albright’s academic training was interdisciplinary in nature, encompassing the study of history, literature, geography, paleography, epigraphy, and religions of ancient Mesopotamia, Egypt, Anatolia, and the Levant (Blakely 2001: 129; Gitin 2002: 5). He received his Ph.D. from Johns Hopkins University in 1916 and married Dr. Ruth Norton, a Sanskrit scholar, in 1921; the couple had four sons. A photograph of Ruth Norton Albright in later years was taken by William Dever at the Albright Institute in 1972 after her husband’s death (fig. 18) (Dever 1993: 29). Albright served as the Jerusalem School director for 12 years, from 1920 to 1929, and then again from 1933 to 1936. He was innovative in bringing together Protestants, Jews, and Catholics under one roof for open, scholarly discourse and was considered an ecumenist among colleagues (Gitin 2002: 5; Wiseman 1972: 348). While directing the school in the 1920s, Albright actively supported Jerusalem excavations, as demonstrated in the Sukenik digs previously mentioned. But most of

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Fig. 19.  The Albright Institute in 1980s (photo by David Harris; reproduced by permission of the AIAR).

Albright’s own excavation activity was outside of the city at sites such as Bethel, Tell el-Ful just north of Jerusalem (e.g., Albright 1923: 1–3), and Tell Beit Mirsim (King 1983: 80–84; Cobbing 2002: 345–62). It was particularly at Tell Beit Mirsim (1926–1932) that Albright developed the archaeological standard that revolutionized the study of stratigraphy to this day. Here, he created a ceramic typology by categorizing stylistic changes in potsherds and indexing chronological variations among different pottery types. He then correlated these types with the stratigraphy of the site and was thus able to discern relative dates of occupation at different levels (King 1983: 80). Albright was well aware of the major changes taking place in the field and how approaches differed radically from those practiced while he was earning his own doctoral degree. He begins his 1930 article, “A Millennium of Biblical History in the Light of Recent Excavations,” with: “During the past ten years the study of Palestinian archaeology has made great progress, and now rests upon an entirely different basis of method and interpretation” (Albright 1930: 441–61). For Albright, the ceramic typological advances were just one part of a larger endeavor to marry literary studies of the Bible with the science of archaeology. As noted by Peter Machinist, Albright’s quest for a scientific approach brought to his study of biblical literature

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Fig. 20.  Gates of the Albright Institute today (photo, Gary Glassman).

new vocabulary like “collection of data,” “rational,” “empirical,” and “facts” (Machinist 1996: 393). He may not have used archaeology to prove the Bible in the same way 19th-century scholars had, 6 but there is no question that he sought to advance biblical studies by adding to it a new dimension—the archaeological record. Albright read biblical texts against the backdrop of material evidence, and material evidence against the backdrop of Biblical texts, bringing the two into dialectical conversation with the aim of gaining a deeper understanding of both. In 1969, Albright describes this approach “as the systematic analysis or synthesis of any phase of Biblical scholarship, which can be clarified by archaeological discovery” (Albright 1969: 8–9; also quoted in Gitin 2002: 5). Albright privileged the chronological and typological ordering of data, the method that still forms the backbone of the archaeological discipline today despite its variant schools. S. Gitin, current director of the Albright Institute, writes that in fostering this approach, “Albright forged a new agenda for Biblical studies and created the discipline of Biblical Archaeology” (Gitin 2002: 5). Dever enumerates the aspects of Albright’s method that continues to remain crucial: (1) the emphasis on the importance of new evidence, especially those data deriving from archaeological sources; (2) the necessity for changing one’s mind in the light of new evidence; (3) the importance of integrating textual and artifactual / material culture data; and (4) the implicit (though not realized) thrust toward a new hermeneutic in Biblical and Ancient Near Eastern historiography (Dever 1993: 30).

Albright’s pioneering contributions to the scholarly community in Jerusalem, his excavations of the areas surrounding Jerusalem, and his advances in biblical studies were based on his openness to new data from archaeological sources and his desire 6. William Dever makes the distinction between Albright’s attentiveness to biblical religion and history as opposed to biblical theology, as is evidenced in some of his students who took the field of biblical archaeology in a somewhat different direction (Dever 1993: 28).

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to bring precision to archaeological fieldwork and stratigraphy in ancient SyriaPalestine (Dever 1993: 31). A number of publications have appeared in the last decades both defending and critiquing Albright’s contribution to archaeology and Biblical studies. 7 One of the reasons that Albright’s theories have received so much attention is due to the powerful legacy and influence Albright continues to exert on the field. First, he was a prolific writer and his works—reaching beyond 1,100 articles and books combined—literally dominated the field quantitatively and qualitatively (Wiseman 1972: 347; Machinist 1996: 386). Second, Albright was editor for more than 37 years (1931–68) of one of the key journals for the archaeology of both Jerusalem and the larger region—the Bulletin of the American Schools of Oriental Research—further shaping the field of ancient Near Eastern studies. Third, Albright left his mark on a generation of students—N. Glueck, G. E. Wright, J, Bright, F. M. Cross, and D. N. Freedman—who have formulated and defined the fields of biblical studies and archaeology, particularly on the American scene, lending long legs to the Albright legacy. Other schools of thought have developed as well, sometimes in conjunction with or in response to Albright’s theories, and intersected with each other at the Albright Institute in Jerusalem. A look at the contemporary picture of the Albright Institute may offer some indication of the third paradigm characterizing the American archaeological presence in Jerusalem.

Into the 21st Century: A Pluralistic Paradigm Ironically, it may be at the very time that the American Jerusalem School underwent its name change to the W. F. Albright Institute of Archaeological Research (fig. 19) that another paradigm emerged marking a shift away from the very discipline of “biblical archaeology” that W. F. Albright had constructed, or at least away from its nomenclature. Biblical archaeology—a linguistic construct fusing the two distinct disciplines of biblical literary studies and Syro-Palestinian archaeology—came under the critical scrutiny of scholars in the final quarter of the 20th century for the dominant role biblical texts (and some religious agendas) had played in the interpretation of archaeological data. Indexing this paradigm shift was the name change of the longstanding, 60-year-old journal, The Biblical Archaeologist, which was first published by ASOR in 1938 with its opening article—“What Were the Cherubim?” (vol. 1, no. 1, page 1)—a decidedly literary biblical approach by none other than W. F. Albright. In 1998, the journal reinvented itself with a new title: Near Eastern Archaeology. The editor, David Hopkins, writes: The new title for our journal necessarily projects a new image and appears for a new orientation to the archaeology of the Near East. In reality, this orientation, which endeavors to embrace the “ancient worlds from Mesopotamia to the Mediterranean,” has for many years supplied the magazine’s editorial policy. Thus, regular readers will 7.  Although I cannot go into these varied arguments in an essay of this length, please see in addition to works on Albright already cited above: Feinman 2004; Freedman, MacDonald, and Mattson 1975; Running and Freedman 1991; Van Beek 1989; Long 1997; Moore 2006; Finkelstein and Silberman 2001.

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hardly notice any change in the scope or tenor of the journal’s contents (Hopkins 1998: 1).

Semantics were everything, and the switch in name signified that the field of Near Eastern archaeology had found its own voice, not so much sans bible, but with biblical texts playing only a limited role among a multitude of other data. In addition, Hopkins’ editorial points to another aspect of the recent paradigm by situating the study of Jerusalem and surrounding areas within a much larger geographical area, “from Mesopotamia to the Mediterranean.” This lens on context characterizes just one of a number of elements—geographical, methodological, and dialogical—integral to the archaeology as a pluralistic paradigm. To examine aspects of this paradigm further, I turn to current scholarly discussions about the state of the field and then to the study of Jerusalem at the Albright Institute today. Recently, numerous scholars have written about contemporary methods, agendas, and problems in the field of Near Eastern archaeology and have argued for a future approach that is pluralistic in nature. I will limit myself to only two essays by Americans here, one by W. Dever and one by E. Meyers (both past directors of the Albright Institute), that shed some light on the political, academic, and methodological controversies that grip the field at the beginning of the 21st century. Dever’s essay, “Syro-Palestinian and Biblical Archaeology: Into the Next Millennium,” offers a succinct summary of present-day critical issues and submits suggestions for the upcoming century. Stating for the record that “the Albrightian era is over” (Dever 2003: 519), Dever points to the importance of and necessity for new technologies and theories to provide a working framework within which to interpret archaeological data. In the realm of new technologies, Dever singles out recent advances made by more precise Carbon 14 dating, neutron activation analysis, Geographical Information Systems (GIS), and computer-generated three-dimensional spatial modeling of artifact clusters (p. 514). In the area of theory and method, he underscores the value of postprocessual approaches—as set forth by theorists such as I. Hodder, T. Earle, and R. Preucel (Hodder 1986; Earle and Preucel 1987: 501–38; Preucel 1991)—for being “deliberately eclectic” in methodology, not buying into a single way of doing archaeology, avoiding positivist presuppositions, placing an emphasis on culture in the larger sociocultural sense, and accommodating the reality of multiple pasts (Dever 2003: 516–17). In relation to the study of ancient Israel, Dever argues that “archaeological data now take precedence over texts as a primary source for history-writing” (pp. 520–21), thus marking a shift away from the dialectical balance between text and artifact that defined the second paradigm decades ago. Dever applauds approaches that allow for the interplay between texts and artifacts (Hodder’s con-text archaeology) and asserts that the postprocessual lens is now the dominant approach among American archaeologists (p. 516). He also points to the method’s engagement with social issues and “its willingness to be culturally and even politically involved,” raising questions about ownership of the past and the political role that archaeology plays in constructing stories of national heritage. In this tricky zone of archaeo-political discourse, Dever asserts that the “metanarrative must be resisted,” and instead, “we must seek to construct and tolerate ‘multiple pasts,’ none of them perfect reflections of reality” (pp. 518–19).

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Meyers focuses on this very notion of multiple pasts and attempts to sort out exploitations of archaeology that further political goals in his recent essay, “Israel and Its Neighbors Then and Now: Revisionist History and the Quest for History in the Middle East Today” (2006: 255–64). Addressing misunderstandings around the relationship of modern Israelis and Palestinians to different groups of ancient peoples, Meyers draws from current scholarship to underscore the importance of a common ancestry for both Palestinians and Israelis from within the ancient Canaanite community. He states that the irony of modern politics is that the Palestinians are in fact “blood cousins” of the modern-day Israelis (2006: 260). Here, then, is the ancient basis for modern dialogue. “In pursuing truthful historical reconstruction,” Meyers contends, “a strong case for pluralism can be made for then and for now” and the varied and complex archaeological record “is rich enough for all to share and could, if properly understood, serve to promote dialogue between Arabs and Israelis” (2006: 255, 262). In both of these essays mapping out agendas for the study of Jerusalem and the Near East, Meyers and Dever articulate pluralistic approaches that include the call for increased dialogue among national and religious groups in order to trace multiple and coexistent communal pasts within the archaeological record. They also point to the open-ended and pluralistic use of varied theoretical applications to render fuller, multi-dimensional understandings of the evidence. Finally, they argue for the contextualization of archaeological data in the broadest geographical, social, and cultural sense possible. I would like to conclude by bringing all of these aspects of the pluralistic paradigm home, as it were, to the Albright Institute in Jerusalem (fig. 20). As we have seen in the first part of the 20th century, W. F. Albright was known for bringing together Protestant, Jews, and Catholics to lend their expertise to the history of the Bible and ancient artifacts. Today, the Albright Institute continues this tradition and broadens it exponentially, due in large part most recently to the efforts of its director for over the last quarter of a century (28 years at the time of writing)––Seymour Gitin. 8 The Albright Institute has come to be known as an agent for dialogue, representing a unique locus within Jerusalem for the collaborative exchange among American, European, Israeli, Palestinian, and Arab nationals. As a nondenominational and nonpolitical establishment, the Albright Institute represents what I would call a “liminal place”—in comparison to other Israeli, Palestinian, or religious institutes in the area—by carving out and maintaining a heterogeneous environment where varied groups convene and often live together. In the academic year 2007–8 alone, 15 stipended and 47 associate fellows conducted research at the Albright, hailing from places as wide-ranging as Johns Hopkins University, the Polish Academy of Sciences in Warsaw, Harvard University, the University of Toronto, 8.  There have been 44 Albright directors of the American Jerusalem School/Albright Institute since 1900, including Glueck, O. Grabar, Freedman, Dever, and Meyers. Each of them has made a mark on the Institute and the field of Near Eastern studies in different ways. Gitin has been director for the longest tenure, more than double the time that Albright spent at the School. For a full listing of AIAR directors and their dates, see King 1983: 276.

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Al-Quds University, Duke University, the Palestinian Department of Antiquities, UCLA, St. Petersburg (Russia), the University of Pennsylvania, the University of Chicago, Oxford University, the University of Missouri–Columbia, Charles University in Prague, to Hebrew University in Jerusalem and beyond. Their disciplinary areas also reflect a mosaic of diversity: archaeology, Islamic studies, philology, biblical studies, history of religion, Egyptology, Judaic studies, art and architectural history, epigraphy, anthropology, and the list goes on. Approximately a quarter of the fellows’ projects each year (24% in 2006–7, for example) directly address the history and archaeology of Jerusalem, and the remaining projects examine Jerusalem’s context, including ancient Judea and regions in the larger Mediterranean area. In addition, since 1980, more than 70 publications specifically on the history of Jerusalem have resulted from the fellowship program at the Albright Institute. 9 Each of these contributors to the scholarly canon on Jerusalem has benefited in one way or another from the dialogical and pluralistic approaches employed by those who have walked through the gates of the Albright Institute. In closing, I highlight one pioneering endeavor at the Albright Institute that may exemplify the potential of the current pluralistic paradigm and pave the way for similar possibilities in the future. “The Neo-Assyrian Empire in the 7th Century b.c.” project, initiated by Gitin in conjunction with the Council of American Overseas Research Centers, involves 50 scholars working in 13 different countries in the Middle East and Mediterranean basin. According to Gitin’s project report, it: is designed to study interactions between the Assyrian center and the periphery of its empire and incorporates historical, environmental and archaeological evidence from Bahrain, Cyprus, Egypt, Greece (mainland and Crete), Iran, Iraq, Israel, Jordan, Spain, Syria, Tunisia and Turkey in a cooperative study by Americans and other scholars working in these countries. 10

The endeavor brings together scholars from disparate backgrounds into dialogical conversation and inquiry to trace large geographical networks of intercultural exchanges in the ancient world. The plethora of interpretive voices in this interdisciplinary study sheds particular light on the development of ancient Jerusalem, which expands suddenly during this period into a much larger urban center. The project draws methodologically from a number of fields and engages new technologies, such as recent isotope analysis of silver in jewelry samples from Philistia and ancient Israel that reveal provenance as far away as Spain. 11 Likewise, petrographic analyses are being performed on store-jars from Carthage, which are typologically related to storejars from the Levant. The purpose is to determine possible commercial connections between the Levant and North Africa in the 7th century b.c.e. and 9.  As Chair of Albright Fellowships at the time of writing this, I have drawn these figures from reviewing fellows’ project descriptions and annual reports listing publications that have resulted from their Albright fellowships. 10.  I thank Sy Gitin for his written report on the project and helpful conversations about it. 11.  For the larger scholarly context of this work on silver exchange—as currency/money, Mediterranean trade, and Phoenician commercial and cultural interconnections—see, for example, a collection of articles translated from Spanish by M. Bierling (2001). See also Thompson 2003: 67–107; Vargyas 2007: 295–304.

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thereby examine the possible economic exchange systems that may have existed in the Phoenician trading network. 12 The geographical, dialogical, and methodological pluralism deployed in such a project is a striking model for future archaeological investigations. A century of history at the Albright Institute, situated within the millennia of Jerusalem, serves as the basis for new forms of knowledge about the ancient city and its surroundings. The American archaeological presence, joined with extended international partners, promises to find innovative guises for the future and to open new gateways towards the understanding of Jerusalem and its history. 12.  This part of the Neo-Assyrian project has been established between the Albright Institute and E. C. Gonzáles Wagner of the Universida Complutense, Madrid and funded by the Spanish government. C. Aznar, a former Albright fellow and a member of the faculty of St. Louis University in Madrid, will carry out the petrographic analysis.

References Albright, W. F. 1923 Interesting Finds in Tumuli near Jerusalem. BASOR 10: 1–3. 1925 The Third Wall of Jerusalem. BASOR 19: 19–21. 1930 A Millennium of Biblical History in the Light of Recent Excavations. Proceedings of the American Philosophical Society 69/1: 441–61. 1938 What Were the Cherubim? BA 1/1: 1–3. 1969 The Impact of Archaeology on Biblical Research–1966. Pp. 1–14 in New Directions in Biblical Archaeology, ed. D. N. Freedman, and J. C. Greenfield; Garden City, NY: Doubleday. 1965 s.v. Bliss, Frederick Jones. Pp. 44-45 in Dictionary of American Biography 22 supp. 2. Ben-Arieh. S., and Netzer, E. 1979 Where Is the Third Wall of Agrippa I? BA 42/1: 140–41. Bierling, M., and Gitin, S. ed. 2001 The Phoenicians in Spain: An Archaeological Review of the Eighth-Sixth Centuries b.c.e., trans. M. Bierling. Winona Lake, IN: Eisenbrauns. Blakely, J. A. 2001 AIAR: Rebuilding the School that Albright Built: A History of the W. F. Albright Institute of Archaeological Research. Pp. 125–237 in An ASOR Mosaic: A Centennial History of the American Schools of Oriental Research, 1900-2000, ed. J. D. Seger. Boston: ASOR. Blowers, P. M. 1993 ‘Living in a Land of Prophets’: James T. Barclay and an Early Disciples of Christ Mission to Jews in the Holy Land. Church History 62/4: 494–513. Broshi, M. 1975 Digging Up Jerusalem: A Critique. BAR 1/3: 1, 18–21. Burrows, M. 1932 The Byzantine Tombs in the Garden of the Jerusalem School. BASOR 47: 35. Butin, R. 1927 An Interesting Find at the Jerusalem School. BASOR 25: 1–3. Cobbing, F. 2002 Biblical Archaeology. Pp. 342–62 in The Biblical World, ed. J. Barton. New York: Routledge.

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Davis, J. 1996 The Landscape of Belief: Encountering the Holy Land in Nineteenth-Century American Art and Culture. Princeton: Princeton University Press. Davis, T. 2004 Shifting Sands: The Rise and Fall of Biblical Archaeology. New York: Oxford University Press. Dever, W. G. 1993 What Remains of the House that Albright Built? BA 56/1: 25–35. 2001 What did the Biblical Writers Know and When Did They Know It? What Archaeology can Tell Us about the Reality of Ancient Israel. Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmans. 2003 Syro-Palestinian and Biblical Archaeology: Into the Next Millennium. Pp. 514–27 in Symbiosis, Symbolism, and the Power of the Past: Canaan, Ancient Israel, and Their Neighbors from the Late Bronze Age through Roman Palestina, ed. W. G. Dever and S. Gitin; Winona Lake, IN: Eisenbrauns. Earle, T. K., and Preucel, R. W. 1987 Processual Archaeology and the Radical Critique. Current Anthropology 28/3: 501–38. Feinman, P. D. 2004 William Foxwell Albright and the Origins of Biblical Archaeology. Berrien Springs, MI: Andrews University Press. Finkelstein, I., and Silberman, N. A. 2001 The Bible Unearthed: Archaeology’s New Vision of Ancient Israel and the Origin of its Sacred Texts. New York: The Free Press. Freedman, D. N.; MacDonald, R. B.; Mattson, D. L. 1975 The Published Works of William Foxwell Albright: A Comprehensive Bibliography. Cambridge, MA: ASOR. Gibson, S. 2003 Jerusalem in Original Photographs 1850-1920. Winona Lake, IN: Eisenbrauns. Gibson, S., and Jacobson, D. 1994 The Oldest Datable Chambers on the Temple Mount in Jerusalem. BA 57/3: 150–60. Gitin, S. 1997 s.v. Albright Institute of Archaeological Research. Pp. 62–63 in The Oxford Encyclopedia of Archaeology in the Near East, vol. 1, ed. E. M. Meyers. New York: Oxford University Press. 2002 The House that Albright Built. NEA 65/1: 5–10. Hallote, R. 2006 Bible, Map and Spade: The American Palestine Exploration Society, Frederick Jones Bliss and the Forgotten Story of Early American Biblical Archaeology. Piscataway, NJ: Gorgias. 2007 Photography and the American Contribution to Early ‘Biblical’ Archaeology, 18701920. Near Eastern Archaeology 70/1: 26–41. Hodder, I. 1986 Reading the Past: Current Approaches to Interpretation in Archaeology. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Hopkins, D. 1998 From the Editor. NEA 61 (2): 1. King, P. J. 1983 American Archaeology in the Mideast: A History of the American Schools of Oriental Research. Philadelphia: ASOR. 1975 The American Archaeological Heritage in the Near East,” BASOR 217: 55–65. Kuklick, B. 1996. Puritans in Babylon: The Ancient Near East and American Intellectual Life, 1880–1930. Princeton: Princeton University Press.

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Long, B. O. 1997 Planting and Reaping Albright: Politics, Ideology, and Interpreting the Bible. University Park, PA: Pennsylvania State University Press. 2003 Imagining the Holy Land: Maps, Models, and Fantasy Travels. Bloomington, IN: University Press. Machinist, P. 1996 William Foxwell Albright: The Man and His Work. Pp. 385–403 in The Study of the Ancient Near East in the 21st Century. The William Foxwell Albright Centennial Conference, ed. J. S. Cooper and G. M. Schwartz. Winona Lake, IN: Eisenbrauns. Meyers, E. 2006 Israel and its Neighbors Then and Now: Revisionist History and the Quest for History in the Middle East Today. Pp. 255–64 in Confronting the Past: Archaeological and Historical Essays on Ancient Israel in Honor of William G. Dever, ed. S. Gitin; J. E. Wright; and J. P. Dessel; Winona Lake, IN: Eisenbrauns. Moore, M. B. 2006 Philosophy and Practice in Writing a History of Ancient Israel. New York: T. & T. Clark. Pixner, B. 1997 Jerusalem’s Essene Gateway: Where the Community Lived in Jesus’ Time. BAR 23/3: 22–31, 64–66. Preucel, Robert, ed. 1991 Processual and Postprocessual Archaeologies: Multiple Ways of Knowing the Past. Carbondale, IL: Southern Illinois University Press. Ritmeyer, L. 2006 The Quest: Revealing the Temple Mount in Jerusalem. Jerusalem: Carta. Robinson, E. 1856 Biblical Researches in Palestine and Adjacent Countries, vols. I–III. London: John Murray. Running, L. G., and Freedman, D. N. 1991 William Foxwell Albright: A Twentieth-Century Genius. Berrien Springs, MI:  Andrews University Press. Silberman, N. A. 2003 A Century of American Archaeology in the Middle East: Looking Back and Looking Ahead. Pp. 7–17 in 100 Years of American Archaeology in the Middle East, ed. D. R. Clark and V. M. Matthews. Boston: ASOR. Sukenik, E. L. 1927 Note on the North Wall of Jerusalem. BASOR 26: 8–9. Thompson, C. M. 2003 Sealed Silver in Iron Age Cisjordan and the ‘Invention’ of Coinage. Oxford Journal of Archaeology 22/1: 67–107. Van Beek, G. W. 1989 The Scholarship of William Foxwell Albright: An Appraisal. Atlanta, GA: Scholars. Vargyas, P. 2007 Fakes before Coins? On the Gold and Silvers Hoards from Level V at Beth-Shean. Pp. 295–304 in “Up to the Gates of Ekron”: Essays on the Archaeology and History of the Eastern Mediterranean in Honor of Seymour Gitin, ed. S. W. Crawford. Jerusalem: W. F. Albright Institute of Archaeological Research and the Israel Exploration Society. Williams, J. 1999 The Times and Life of Edward Robinson: Connecticut Yankee in King Solomon’s Court. Atlanta: Society of Biblical Literature. Wiseman, D. J. 1972 Obituary: William Foxwell Albright. Bulletin of the School of Oriental and African Studies 35/2: 346–48.

The École Biblique et Archéologique Française: A Catholic, French, and Archaeological Institution Dominique Trimbur

CRFJ–Centre de recherche français à Jérusalem

in collaboration with Jean-Baptiste Humbert (École biblique et archéologique française de Jérusalem)

Introduction As a historian of the Catholic French establishments in Palestine, I would like to stress first of all both the Catholic and French characters of the École biblique, and only then to summarize the contribution of this prominent institution to the archaeological exploration of the Holy Land and the area beyond the borders of this territory. The fusion of religion, politics, and science within the context of archaeology, motivating people to explore “for God and Country” (Silberman 1982; Trümples 2008) has never been an exclusively French activity. This field, with this particularly complex perspective, is common to numerous scholars and has been discussed recently by Ulrich Hübner, Haim Goren, and Markus Kirchhoff within the context of German explorations (Hübner 2006; Goren 2006; Kirchhoff 2005). 1

From the École pratique d’études bibliques to the École biblique et archéologique française de Jérusalem 2 The Dominican school is both a Catholic and a French institution. It developed as part of a new French network in the Holy Land, within the political framework of the Ottoman Empire. The school was established after the “rediscovery of the ‘Holy Land’” by the Europeans and after the French intrusion into the region in 1798–99 (Ben-Arieh 1979). The École biblique is part of a larger scholarly establishment and was created as one of the last French and Catholic institutions in Palestine. The initiative was taken by a Dominican priest, Father M. Lecomte, who came to the Holy Land at the beginning of renewed French pilgrimage in 1882 and was interested in establishing a Dominican monastery in Jerusalem that would not exclusively function as a religious institution. In line with the very vocation of the Dominican friars, as well as reflecting the desire of the French patrons of the new foundation, the institution sought to contribute to French political aspirations within the 1.  Hübner includes a very interesting and rather comprehensive bibliography. 2.  This section is based on my study (Trimbur 2002).

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context of the Holy Land and also to be active on a scientific level in relation to their potential or real scholarly rivals. Established in 1890, the Dominican biblical school (the institution’s original name was École pratique d’Études bibliques) became the first permanent foreign archaeological institution in Palestine. It was an established and well-settled institution, and as such represented a major rupture with the long tradition of focused missions conducted by independent individuals such as Frenchmen H. T. de Luynes, L. de Laborde, F. de Saulcy, V. Guérin, M. de Vogüé, and C. Clermont-Ganneau. 3 With their new initiative, the Dominicans provided an alternative to the former brief explorations whose leaders came primarily from Europe. Researchers from now on would be able to reside in the very location of their fieldwork. This trend toward archaeology in the modern sense of the word was motivated by the desire to enlighten the study of the Bible by surveying and studying local conditions. The École pratique d’études bibliques was created by Father M. J. Lagrange under the auspices of the Dominican order. The abilities of this one individual led to the creation of an entire scientific institution. Lagrange was soon joined by other specialists as well as by junior researchers, who were to become experts in the field. Thus, the aspirations of an individual determined the shaping of a well-structured research establishment fostering the study of religion, exegesis, and archaeology. Over time, however, this kind of institution could not evolve independently from political events, especially those resulting from multiple national conflicts and rivalries. The institution was created with the main goal of providing a Catholic response to the field of Protestant Bible Studies. It developed gradually into a French presence vis-à-vis other foreign ambitions in the region, especially German and British ones, or, in other words, Protestant ambitions. It was also intended to take a position with regard to the Russian Orthodox presence based both in Constantinople and Jerusalem and, finally, the Italian Catholic presence represented by the Franciscan Custodia di Terra Santa (or Custody of the Holy Land, which was later to establish the Studium Biblicum Franciscanum for its scientific activities). This particular context, with an ever-growing atmosphere of rivalry, was threatening to Lagrange. The threat was not a scientific one, because he and his colleagues were becoming increasingly renowned; instead, the threat was religious and theological, because the situation was primarily perceived as theologically vulnerable, especially in view of the harsh attacks launched by numerous conservative Catholic members of the community during the early 20th century at the time of the so-called “modernist crisis” (Montagnes 1995, 2005). This crisis was intricately linked to the difficult political situation. The sensitivity of the situation was acknowledged by the religious representatives as well as their main supporters, the French diplomats at the French Foreign Ministry in Paris, the French embassies in Constantinople and at the Vatican, and finally, the Consulate General of France in Jerusalem. The French government representatives tried to neutralize various critics and made numerous efforts to stabilize the situation at the École biblique. 3.  For a more general description, see Gran-Aymerich 1998; Gran-Aymerich 2001; Chevalier 2002.

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Because the Dominicans in Jerusalem were at the service of science, religion, and their country of origin, they had to maintain some sort of balance between their obligations to the Holy See and their desire to conduct an honest inquiry into the foundations of their faith. 4 Politically speaking, the École biblique formed part of the framework of officially recognized French institutions established within the larger Ottoman Empire (as agreed upon in the Mytilenes agreement of 1901). At the scientific level, the situation stabilized following the intensified relations between the Jerusalem Dominicans and other French researchers, both on an individual basis and within the framework of various French research institutions such as the Société asiatique, the Société des fouilles, and the Académie des inscriptions et belles lettres (AIBL hereafter). From an administrative point of view, there was a desire to create official links among the secular and Catholic French research institutions, which stood behind numerous discussions, evaluations, and some concrete proposals. These efforts existed in spite of the radical anticlerical policies advocated by the French government. 5 Unfortunately, however, no real progress was achieved before World War I. Surprisingly, this conflict and the resulting circumstances presented opportunities that would ultimately benefit the development of the École biblique (Gibson 1999). In many regards, the war accelerated the process that led to the creation of a new research institution. Following the collapse of the Ottoman Empire at the end of World War I, the situation changed under the newly formed British mandatory government. Given the extremely unstable conditions, awareness grew of the need to preserve the archaeological treasures of the region, which were at the mercy of a dangerous political and military situation. As the Americans established their research institution in Jerusalem (Trimbur 2002), and the British created their center of study (under the leadership of J. Garstang), the French built their own institute specializing in the exploration of the Holy Land. The Dominicans expressed their desire to be officially recognized as part of the larger network of French research institutions in the Middle East and fought against an exclusively “secular” representation in the region. 6 Finally, after numerous communications, debates, and delays, in October 1920 the École biblique et archéologique française de Jérusalem (ÉBAF, still its name) was created, taking its place among similar prestigious French research institutions in foreign countries, such as those in Rome and Athens. As the Catholic École pratique d’études bibliques shifted into the official ÉBAF, the French government expressed two main objectives: to conduct explorations and research activities with a modest budget and to acquire prestige. Thus

4.  This balance ensued progressively after a tremendous crisis during the first decade of the 20th century (Montagnes 1990, 2002). 5.  As a matter of fact, the lay and anticlerical French government of the period never eliminated the support of the French Catholic institutions abroad, since they were an effective and in­ expensive means of disseminating French influence throughout the world (Trimbur 2006: 121–35). 6.  The French lay scholars during this period were unwilling to share their field with others: this is clearly indicated by the attitude of the archaeologists of the École française d’Athènes, who rejected the official recognition of the Assumptionist research institution in Constantinople (under the responsibility of Louis Petit who published the well-known Échos d’Orient) (Trimbur 2002: 107–9).

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Fig. 1.  Petra 1896. Lagrange and his team making the first squeeze of the Nabataean royal inscription of the Turkmaniyah Tomb. © ÉBAF.

after the Ottoman period, under Mandatory rule, the École biblique became a significant research institution in the Holy Land, a status that it maintains to this day.

Archaeological Contributions by the École biblique This short summary on the development of the status of the École biblique, which debuted as a religious establishment and ultimately became an official French research institution, reflects the peculiar situation of the Holy Land. Palestine was a center for numerous rivalries and at the same time the place that fostered the creation of the modern field of archaeology. What was and still is the contribution of the Dominicans to the archaeology of Jerusalem? 7 7.  For the period before 1985, I rely on the important report by Father Pierre Benoit (1987: 397–424). For the succeeding period, I am grateful to Father J.-B. Humbert, currently in charge

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We can distinguish four periods, determined by the political changes in the region. Before World War I, archaeological explorations took mostly place on the grounds of St. Stephen’s Monastery. Indeed, the first excavation was carried out in the very location where the monastery was built in 1882, with the goal of physically marking the spot identified with the martyrdom of the saint. The aim was to create a direct, physical link between ancient Christendom and the Catholic revival in the Holy Land, an aim shared with other foreign institutions in the region, as clearly indicated by their own increased presence there. The excavations, revealing the foundations of a Byzantine-period basilica, determined the style of the modern church built on top of it (consecrated at the beginning of the 20th century). The Dominicans also conducted surveys, using their travels through Palestine with their students as an opportunity to explore and document the region. 8 During these trips, they studied various types of ruins, such as the fortress of Masada, numerous other sites in southern Lebanon, throughout the Jordan Valley, in the Hauran region, and in Philistia. The most important archaeological discoveries by the Dominicans during this phase were made in Sinai and at Petra. In Sinai, during two seasons of excavations in 1893 and 1896, Lagrange revealed Roman and Byzantine sites, providing a backdrop for the story of the Exodus. At the request of the AIBL, the Dominicans explored Petra, with the goal of discovering a royal Nabatean inscription. This latter quest illustrates the nature of many of the initial activities of the École and one of their main interests: epigraphy. Initially, with the collaboration of Count de Vogüé, this field became the specialty of Fathers R. Savignac and F. M. Abel, who collaborated with a less-known French friar based in Jerusalem, the Assumptionist E. Germer-Durand. Thanks to their presence at the École and their growing reputation, the Jerusalem Dominicans were invited to explore additional sites: Tel Gezer in 1899 (at the request of the AIBL) and Abdeh or Oboda in the Negev in 1904 (also at the request of the AIBL). On the Eastern bank of the Jordan River, Father P. Séjourné visited Madaba, recognizing for the first time the importance of its Byzantine mosaic workshops. In 1897, Lagrange described the famous and earliest Jerusalem map discovered below the pavement of a local Greek parish church. This discovery provided Father A. Jaussen with another opportunity, namely, to describe the local populations. This work initiated a long-lasting tradition of ethnographic studies conducted by the Jerusalem Dominicans as a logical and natural complement to archaeological field work (Chatelard and Tarawneh 1999). During their trips to Northern Arabia in 1907, 1909, 1910, and 1912, which were initiated by the Société française des fouilles archéologiques or by the AIBL, Jaussen and Savignac, well-known for their extensive journeys through the region, collected archaeological, epigraphic, and ethnographic data. In addition to the numerous and varied archaeological surveys, Abel, Jaussen, and Savignac made several of archaeology at École biblique, who supplied me with all the relevant information included in this paper. As an additional valuable source of reference I would like to mention several volumes published by the École biblique et archéologique française for its centenary (1988, 1990, 1992). See also Poffet 2006. 8.  For example, the trip around the Dead Sea (Loth and Abel 1997).

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expeditions to the Dead Sea and Palmyra––the latter taking place just before World War I. The Dominicans were––and still are–– obviously interested in the city of their residence: Jerusalem. Thus Lagrange examined the location of the City of David. His initiatives were continued by two of his disciples, H. Vincent and Abel, who conducted a systematic exploration of the Holy City, published in 1912 and 1954– 56. Active in a field that attracted increasing numbers of scholars, the Jerusalem Dominicans also showed interest in the excavations undertaken by others and collaborated with explorers, such as M. Parker in the City of David (1909–11). The excavations and documentations of the Dominicans were published in numerous articles of the Revue biblique (from 1892), in monographs, and in reports submitted to the various sociétés savantes for which they were carried out. The friars also documented their research activities with numerous photographs, creating a dataset that still constitutes one of the more famous and important collections from a scholarly point of view. 9 Because most French clerics were expelled by the Ottomans, excavations and explorations in Palestine had to be interrupted during World War I. Nevertheless, those few that remained within the area, beyond sharing their knowledge of the region with British and French military intelligence, continued their research activities on a smaller scale, mostly in other parts of the Middle East. The latter were conducted under British or French auspices (Institute du Monde Arabe 1999). After the British conquest of Palestine (1917–18), the Dominicans were once again allowed to settle in Jerusalem and to resume their research. The political and scientific setting was completely different; new areas and possibilities of research emerged, fostering an ideal environment to create an institution that would supervise and regulate archaeological exploration and help prevent illegal plunder. After the above-mentioned official recognition by the French government (October 1920) and the creation of the ÉBAF, it established its own research program and developed its scholarly and educational curriculum. From this point onward the friars were no longer isolated. Scholarships for young researchers granted by the AIBL put the École in charge of the education of French archaeologists exploring the region, who ultimately became the leading French specialists also working in other parts of the Middle East, collaborating with similar French institutions in Syria and Lebanon. Vincent and Abel continued their study of Byzantine Jerusalem (published partly in 1914, and then in 1922 and 1926). The Dominicans explored the Tomb of the Patriarchs in Hebron (published in 1923) in collaboration with their British colleagues. Furthermore, given the new possibilities of travel by car, they renewed their expeditions in Transjordan. New generations of Dominican scholars at the 9.  The collection includes numerous picturesque representations of archaeological sites in the Holy Land (and beyond): several exhibitions over recent years have been an opportunity to (re-) discover these photographs. For instance, the catalogues of the exhibitions of the Institut du Monde Arabe, Itinéraires Bibliques: Photographies de la collection de l’École Biblique et Archéologique Française de Jérusalem, début du XXe siècle (1995) and Al-Quds al-Sharif, patrimoine musulman de la Vieille Ville de Jérusalem: Photogaphies 1890–1925 (2002).

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Fig. 2.  The Dominican Fathers Augustin Barrois and Felix Abel during the École biblique 1927 season at Tell Neirab (Syria). © ÉBAF.

École emerged after World War I. In contrast to the period of the founding fathers, younger friars were now in charge of the field projects, including, among others, R. Tonneau, A. Barrois, R. de Vaux, and P. Benoit. In the 1920s, the ÉBAF started to conduct its own excavation projects. In agreement with the British Antiquities Department, the Dominicans directed excavations in Palestine at Jericho (synagogue mosaic), Nablus (ancient hypogeaum), Beth Guvrin (Roman villa), and Amwas (Emmaüs). They also worked in Syria (at the request of the AIBL), conducting two seasons of excavations between 1927 and 1928 in the area of Aleppo, Arslan Tash, and Neirab. During the 1930s, at the request of the British, they excavated in Transjordan, at Djebel er Ram (Nabatean villages near Aqaba) under the direction of Father Savignac and at Maïn (Byzantine church near Madaba) under de Vaux. In contrast to World War I, during World War II, the Dominicans were allowed to stay in Palestine and continue their activities (with the exception of the clergy serving in the French forces). De Vaux also excavated at Abu Ghosh in 1944 (published in 1946 and 1950); during the same period (1945–46), Aïn al-Ma’ammoudiyah (Hebron, site of a baptismal pilgrimage) was excavated by de Vaux and by Father A. M. Stève. Nevertheless, the war limited the activities to small-scale excavations.

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Fig. 3.  De Vaux’s 1953 excavations at the Early Bronze II Gate of Tell el-Farʿah, Nablus area. © ÉBAF.

Fig. 4.  Excavations at Qumrân: the so-called refectory. © ÉBAF.

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Fig. 5.  The Roman Period in Jordan project (1981–2006): the entrance of the Roman camp (3rd century a.d.). © ÉBAF.

Immediately afterward, significantly more important projects were launched. De Vaux was instructed by the AIBL to conduct excavations at Tell el-Farʿah (1946–60, published in 1947–62). This period, when France was ready to claim its independent role within the region, was rife with political upheaval, witnessing the creation of the State of Israel and the institution of a new political order. This era also saw the very famous excavations and discoveries at Qumran, beginning in 1951. This endeavor was conducted under the aegis of the Jordanian Antiquities Department in collaboration with the British and the American schools of archaeology. The publication of the final report still constitutes a priority among the École biblique’s research projects. The preliminary reports were published in 1961 and the manuscripts in full from 1955 onward. During this period, the Dominicans continued their archaeological exploration of Jerusalem. Between 1964 and 1966, they examined the area outside the Herodian Temple Mount enclosure wall, consisting of short excavation seasons that were regularly interrupted by political events. Father M.-E. Boismard conducted excavations at St. Vincent de Paul in Bethany and at Khan Saliba in the Judean Desert (1966). During the 1950s, Father Vincent completed his study on Jerusalem with his Ancient Testimony (published in 1954 and 1956). During the same time, Father C. Coüasnon carried out a

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Fig. 6.  El-Fedayn 1986 season (Mafraq, Jordan): the Umayyad storerooms placed inside the Iron Age fortress (8th century b.c.). © ÉBAF.

study on the Holy Sepulchre and the Crusader church of St. Anne in cooperation with the Franciscan Custody, an opportunity that presented itself after the restoration of these buildings. During the 1960s and 1970s, de Vaux, assisted by a new generation of Dominican archaeologists based at the École biblique, such as J. Prignaud, J.-B. Humbert, J. Briend, and E. Nodet, began a new project at Tell Keisan, a Phoenician site located south of ʾAkko. In addition, Humbert, with the assistance of A. Desreumaux and J.-M. de Tarragon launched an excavation at Khirbat as-Samra, a Roman-Byzantine site in Jordan, establishing a long-term and still ongoing collaboration with the Jordanian Antiquities Department. De Tarragon became responsible of the restoration project of the photographic collection of the École biblique. Following the Six Day War in 1967, Humbert was appointed the new chief archaeologist at the École biblique. Given the political borders, he was no longer able to maintain two excavations, both on the Israeli and the Jordanian sides. The excavations at Tell Keisan were therefore terminated and from then on his activities focused on sites in Jordan. The initial agenda was to investigate questions similar to those in the Galilee––namely, the Aramean and Syrian influences in the northern part of the country during the Iron Age. An additional project was initiated at Samra, beginning with survey activities in 1977 and continuing with excavations in 1981. The still on-going project has clarified important questions that relate to the gradual ebb and wane of Christianization within the Provincia Arabia. Ad-

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Fig. 7.  Eastern rooms of the Assyrian Palace at the Amman Citadel (1989). © ÉBAF.

ditional research projects conducted by Humbert include the Aramean fortress at al-Fudayn-Mafraq, revealing the Iron Age foundations of the buildings, Byzantine construction, and the Umayyad-period palace. A new collaboration with the Jordanian Antiquities Department explored the Lower Terrace of the Amman Citadel between 1988 and 1994 (the Middle Bronze II-rampart and the Neo-Assyrian palace of ancient Rabbat Ammon). Since 1995, the École biblique has taken on an entirely new challenge. Accepting the invitation of the Palestinians, the French have assisted with the creation of the Palestinian Antiquities Authority with the goal of exploring Palestinian cultural heritage and building an active scholarly establishment.

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Fig. 8.  Gaza-Blakhiyah 2005: Hellenistic rampart and city-gate tower of the Anthedon of Palestine. © ÉBAF.

However, after a few promising years, activities were limited to rescue excavations, conducted on a more-or-less yearly basis, which, given the political situation, had to be suspended in 2001 and were resumed only in 2005. An additional contribution of the École biblique consists of training Palestinian archaeologists within the context of various excavations conducted at Blakhiyah, in the very heart of Gaza City (remains dating from the Iron Age to the Hellenistic period); Mukheitim near Jabaliyah, north of the Gaza Strip (ecclesiastical complex), and at Umm al-Amer (probable location of the monastery of Hilarion, the founder of monasticism in the Holy Land). 10

Conclusion The French École biblique in Jerusalem was the first archaeological institution permanently headquartered in the Holy Land. Originally created as a Catholic institution called École pratique d’études bibliques, it officially became a French research institution, the École biblique et archéologique française, in October 1920. This change represents the emergence of the field of modern archaeology. It fur10.  See the École biblique’s recent exhibition in Geneva, based on the archaeological activities in the Gaza Strip (Humbert 2007) and the ongoing exhibitions in collaboration with the Institut du Monde Arabe, Paris, and various other cultural institutions of the French embassies, mostly throughout the Arab world .

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thermore indicates the official recognition of the scholarly level of the activities conducted by the Jerusalem Dominican friars. Its numerous archaeological activities, frequently conducted under difficult local conditions, constitute an important part of the scholarly exploration fostering the cultural heritage of the Holy Land, initially in rivalry and later in cooperation with other foreign researchers.

References Loth, A. and Abel, F.-M. 1997 Périple de la Mer Morte 1908–1909. Jerusalem: École biblique et archéologique française. Ben Arieh, Y. 1979 The Rediscovery of the Holy Land in the Nineteenth Century. Jérusalem: Magnes. Benoit, P. 1987 Activités archéologiques de l’École biblique et archéologique française à Jérusalem depuis 1890. Revue biblique 94/3: 397–424. Chatelard, G., and Tarawneh, M., eds. 1999 Antonin Jaussen–Sciences sociales occidentales et patrimoine arabe. Amman / Beirut: Centre d’Études et de Recherches sur le Moyen-Orient Contemporain. Chevalier, N. 2002 La recherche archéologique française au Moyen-Orient, 1842–1947. Paris: Éditions Recherche sur les Civilisations. École biblique et archéologique et archéologique française de Jérusalem 1988 Un siècle d’archéologie à l’École biblique de Jérusalem: 1890–1990. Jerusalem / Paris: Gabalda. 1990 Cent ans d’exégèse à l’École biblique. 2 vols. Jerusalem / Paris: Gabalda. 1992 Naissance de la méthode critique: Colloque du centenaire de l’École biblique et archéologique française de Jérusalem. Paris: Cerf. 1995 Itinéraires Bibliques: Photographies de la collection de l’École biblique et archéologique française de Jérusalem, début du XXe siècle. Paris: Institut du Monde Arabe, Centre Régional de la Photographie du Nord Pas-de-Calais. 1999 Photographies d’Arabie: Hedjaz 1907–1917. Paris: Institut du Monde Arabe. 2002 Al-Quds al-Sharif, patrimoine musulman de la Vieille Ville de Jérusalem: Photographies 1890–1925. Paris: Institut du Monde Arabe. Gibson, S. 1999 British Archaeological Institutions in Mandatory Palestine 1917–1948. Palestine Exploration Quarterly 131: 115–43. Goren, H. 2003 Zieht aus und erforscht das Land”: Die deutsche Palästina-Forschung im 19. Jahrhundert. Göttingen: Wallstein. Gran-Aymerich, E. 1998 Naissance de l’archéologie moderne 1798–1945. Paris: CNRS-Éditions. 2001 Dictionnaire biographique d’archéologie 1798–1945. aris: CNRS / Éditions Ecole biblique et archaeologique francaise. Hübner U., ed. 2006 Palaestina exploranda: Studien zur Erforschung Palästinas im 19. und 20. Jahrhundert anläßlich des 125jährigen Bestehens des Deutschen Vereins zur Erforschung Palästinas. Wiesbaden: Harrassowitz. Humbert, J.-B., et al. 2007 Gaza: A la croisée des civilisations. Neuchâtel: Chaman, 2 vols. Institut du Monde arabe.

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Kirchhoff, M. 2005 Text zu Land: Palästina im wissenschaftlichen Diskurs 1865–1920. Göttingen: Vandenhoeck and Ruprecht. Montagnes, B. 1995 Le Père Lagrange 1855–1938: L’exégèse catholique dans la crise moderniste. Paris: Cerf. 2005 Marie-Joseph Lagrange: Une biographie critique. Paris: du Cerf. 1990 Les séquelles de la crise moderniste. Revue thomiste, 90/2: 245–70. 2002 Le père Lagrange devant la question biblique. Science et esprit 54/1: 97–108. Silberman, N. A. 1982 Digging for God and Country : Exploration, Archaeology, and the Secret Struggle for the Holy Land, 1799-1917. New-York: Knopf. Trimbur, D. 2002 Une École française à Jérusalem: de l’École pratique d’études bibliques des Dominicains à l’École biblique et archéologique française de Jérusalem (special issue of Mémoire dominicaine). Paris: du Cerf. 2006 La revanche des congrégations? Politique anticléricale et présence catholique françaises en Palestine, début du XXème siècle. Pp. 121–35 in Le choc colonial et l’islam – Les politiques religieuses des puissances coloniales en terre d’islam, ed. P.-J. Luizard. Paris: La Découverte. Trümpler, C., ed. 2008 Das grosse Spiel: Archäologie und Politik zur Zeit des Kolonialismus (1860–1940). Cologne: DuMont.

The Archaeology of Jerusalem and the Franciscans of the Studium Biblicum Michele Piccirillo †

Studium Biblicum Franciscanum

Introduction The Vatican Congregation for Catholic Education declared the Studium Biblicum Franciscanum of Jerusalem a Faculty of Biblical Sciences and Archaeology with a decree issued on September 4, 2001. In the opening ceremony of the new faculty held in Jerusalem, Archbishop Mons. Giuseppe Pittau, secretary of the Congregation, wanted to stress that the new faculty was not only the acknowledgment of what had been accomplished in the institute in recent years but also of the precious work done by the Friars Minor during the eight centuries of life in Jerusalem at the service of the holy sites. The recent discovery and publication of a Descriptio Terrae Sanctae written around the year 1330 by Father Giovanni Fidanzola from Perugia, at the time minister of the Franciscan province of Terra Sancta (Boettcher 2001), 1 has engendered bibliographical research that still seems not to have been exhausted. This discovery documented the research and learning that has paralleled the Franciscan presence in these regions since the Order was established (Golubovich 1906–27). Descriptions and guides to the Promised Land were written by the Friars Minor as early as the 13th century. 2 This undertaking expanded after 1333, when the Friars, the only westerners living in Jerusalem (in the newly built monastery on Mount Zion; De Sandoli 1990) started guiding pilgrims. 3 In the 13th century, the literary activity became historical-antiquarian research, which had as a first priority the defining of the urban perimeter of the walls of ancient Jerusalem at the time of Jesus. Another main concern of the Friars Minor was to explain to the pilgrims entrusted to them the reason for the location of the Basilica of the Holy Sepulchre with its Rock of Calvary and the Tomb of Jesus inside the walls and not outside, as presumed by the Protestant tradition. This belief is very much based on the words of St. Paul who wrote, “Jesus also suffered outside the gate, to consecrate the people by his own blood. Let us then go to him outside the camp, bearing the stigma that he bore” (Heb 13:12–13). 1.  In the manuscript, there is an interesting map of the Basilica of the Holy Sepulchre. 2.  In the Saggio di bibliografia geografica storica etnografica sanfrancescana written by Fr. Marcellino da Civezza, Prato 1879, among 819 titles, 91 deal with the Holy Land (Piccirillo 2000: 44–57). 3.  First attested in the itinerary written by the Italian Notary Nicola de Martoni in 1394 (Io Notaio Nicola De Martoni, Il pellegrinaggio ai Luoghi Santi da Carinola a Gerusalemme 1394–1395 (Picirillo 2002).

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During the same period, in 1555, Fr. Bonifacius of Ragusa succeeded in restoring the Edicule of the tomb in the Church of the Holy Sepulchre, an achievement that must be seen as an important event for the Franciscan community of Jerusalem (Bonifacius of Ragusa 1875). Thanks to the pioneering research of Fr. Gianfrancesco della Salandra Custos of the Holy Land (Bagatti 1942: 87–94), a father of the community in the new Franciscan convent of Saint Savior inside the city walls was able to sketch a topographical map of Jerusalem, which was engraved by Mario Cartaro and printed in Rome in the year 1578 (Piccirillo 2004: 93–118). This map, which may be seen as the first realistic plan of the Holy City, has been quoted and used by modern scholars and contemporary authors, such as Adrichomius, Zuallart, Breuning, and Fr. Bernardino Amico and was known as the Lost Map of Refuge after the forced expulsion from the convent on Mount Zion in 1551. The Franciscan School of Palestinology was founded on the basis of their important activities (Rome 1610, Florence 1620) and Francesco Quaresmi’s Elucidatio Terrae Sanctae (Anversa 1639; Piccirillo 1999: 167–78). We mainly refer to Fr. Bonifacius of Ragusa, author of Liber de perenni cultu Terrae Sancta, Father Gianfrancesco della Salandra the mentor of the school, Father Antoninus de Angelis from Lecce, author of the first realistic map of Jerusalem, and Father Amico, to whom we are indebted for the first measured drawings of the holy shrines “drawings of the sacred shrines” author of Trattato dei Sacri Edifici, and Fr. Francesco Quaresmi, author of Elucidatio Terrae Sanctae, who together with their successors must be considered the real founders of the Studium Biblicum Franciscanum, which was opened officially by the Order in the first half of the 20th century as a center of biblical research (Piccirillo 2003: 77–98). The Studium, which was reopened officially in 1923, after a first failed attempt at the end of the 19th century, was intended as the response of the Friars Minor, custodians of the holy sites, to the new challenging questions put forward by the scientific world, which was approaching the biblical text and the Holy Land with new critical methods and with the new archaeological science as delineated in Studium Biblicum Franciscanum: Nel 50mo della Fondazione (1923–1973). The Friars Minor have met these demands by utilizing their secular knowledge of the Holy Land. For both obvious and practical reasons, given the loction of the holy sites, the Franciscan school specialized in the field of Christian archaeology and in the history of the local Christian community from its origins onward. The excavations carried out by the archaeologists of the Studium Biblicum usually constitute the initial step for the reconstruction or the restoration of the holy sites entrusted to the Custody of the Holy Land by the Catholic Church. Naturally, the archaeological research encompassed all periods present at the site—for example, in the Jerusalem region, the Late Bronze Age tombs in the cemetery of Dominus Flevit or the Middle Bronze–Late Bronze occupational remains at Bethany.

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Archaeological Excavations Dominus Flevit and Bethany on the Mount of Olives– from MB II through the Early Roman Period The large necropolis surrounding the small Byzantine-period monastic complex of Dominus Flevit, on the western slopes of the Mount of Olives, was excavated intermittently by Fr. Bellarmino Bagatti in 1953. Fr. Sylvester Saller conducted the research on the Late Bronze age materials, while J.-P. Milik studied the epigraphic finds of the early Roman period. The rich deposit containted within a double tomb and dated to the end of the Middle and Late Bronze ages (16th–14th centuries b.c.e.) has provided new insights on the material culture of the pre-Davidic inhabitants of Jerusalem and shed light on their commercial links with Egypt (alabaster vessels) and the Mycenean world (bilbil jugs, painted flasks, etc.) (Saller, 1964: 139–58, 192–97). At Bethany, on the eastern slopes of the same mountain, several discoveries were made in the gardens of the Comboni Sisters. The materials from several tombs were studied by Fr. Stanislao Loffreda. Pottery from three tombs were dated to the Middle Bronze II period (Loffreda 1969: 349–66; 1974: 142–69; 1984: 357–70). Excavations carried out among the olive trees, east of the gardens, not far from the Roman–Byzantine Lazarion, have resulted in the discovery of a small settlement. In a water cistern, several pottery typologies of the Persian period pottery vessels were found alongside several handles with stamps: one with the letters YRSHLM inscribed within a five pointed star; another with the word YHWD; and others carrying Persian motifs such as the lion (Saller 1957). Numerous Hellenistic-, Roman-, and Byzantine-period tombs have been found within the Dominus Flevit cemetery. The stone sarcophagi and decorated ossuaries are of particular interest (2nd–3rd centuries c.e.). Several ossuaries were inscribed with charcoal or incised with the names of the deceased in Greek, Hebrew, or Aramaic, appearing alongside geometric motifs (Bagatti and Milik 1958). The archaeological finds supported the hypothesis put forth by F. ClermontGanneau and Y. Sukenik, according to which the first Christian community in Jerusalem was born within a Jewish milieu, encouraging scholars to reinvestigate the Jewish and Christian literature of the first centuries of our era (Bagatti 1956: 240–70; 1969 : 194–236; Lombardi 1957: 165–90). The discovery of a sheqel hoard within a Roman period tomb, including a sheqel of “Year 5” alongside a Tyrian sheqel and a Tyrian tetradrahm struck in Antioch at the time of Nero, provided Fr. Augustus Spijkerman with the opportunity to study important data on Jewish coinage from the period of the First Revolt (66–70 c.e.) (Spijkerman 1961: 25–31). Aelia Capitolina and the Flagellation Monastery on the Via Dolorosa The study of the ancient architectural remains located in the basement of the Monastery of the Flagellation, the seat of the Studium, provided Fr. Bagatti with the opportunity to define the limits of the paved plaza to the east of the Ecce Homo Arch and to reconstruct the Antonia Fortress, which according to him was smaller

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than previously assumed. Excavations have also exposed a small section of the Roman–Byzantine period road in the eastern part of the ancient city (Bagatti 1979; Loffreda 1985: 313–26). In this context, one should mention the contribution of Fr. Augustus Spijkerman to the study of numismatics related to the time of Aelia Capitolina, which are part of the collection of the Studium Museum (Spijkerman 1957: 145–64; 1958: 568–84; 1964: 245–60). Additional displays include two fragments of an imperial inscription of Aelia Hadrianus from the Damascus Gate as well as inscriptions mentioning the names of soldiers of the Legion X Fretensis found in Jerusalem (Bagatti 1939: 130, 137–38). The Church of the Holy Sepulchre Before turning to current archaeological research conducted within the Church of the Holy Sepulchre, one should refer once again to the drawings of the building published in the 15th century by Amico in his Trattato dei Sacri Edifici (first edition published in Rome in 1610, including copper engravings by Antonio Tempesta; second edition published in Florence in 1620, with engravings by Jacques Callot). An accurate description of the monument by Quaresmi appeared in Elucidatio Terrae Sanctae (published in 1639). Amico’s drawings were also meant to be used by Bethlehem artisans to build models of the Holy Sepulchre and of the Church of the Nativity made of olive wood covered with mother-of-pearl. In his three volumes dedicated to this principle sanctuary of Christianity, Fr. Virgilio C. Corbo documented the archaeological results of the modern restoration works conducted in the church starting in 1961. The documentation was limited, due to the limited and infrequent nature of the underground excavations carried out in different areas within the building (Corbo 1981). In my opinion, the main and real result of this work in comparison to the preceding ones dedicated to the church is the sketchy plan of the Constantinian monument (Bagatti 1984b: 561–71; Corbo 1984 : 409–16; Manns 1984: 18–27; Piccirillo 1984 : 80–100; see also Diez Fernández 2004). The Lazarion of Bethany (Early Byzantine through Crusader Periods) Excavations of the ecclesiastical complex above and around the venerated tomb of Lazarus called Lazarion in Greek/el-ʿAzariyeh in Arabic, were conducted by Fr. Sylvester Saller between1949 and 1953 (Saller 1957). The earliest church was built in the second half of the 4th century c.e. on the eastern slope of the mountain facing the venerated tomb and separated from it by an open atrium. In the 5th century c.e., the church floor was covered with a beautiful mosaic, including geometrical motifs, and was extended to the east by the addition of a second apse. The church was rebuilt during the medieval period, with a roof supported by pillars in place of the former columns. During this period, at the time of Queen Melisende, a square monastery was built above the venerated tomb, including a chapel. Fragments of the fine marble decoration have been recovered.

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The Medieval Chapel at Bethpage During the Crusader period, a chapel was erected at Bethpage. Excavations carried out prior to the reconsruction of the chapel uncovered a square-shaped isolated rock located near the northern wall. Its surface was covered with a painting of four scenes depicting the resurrection of Lazarus and the entry of Jesus into Jerusalem (Saller and Testa 1961; Bagatti 1951: 227–46). The Valley of Jehosaphat The Franciscans settled in the Jehosaphat Valley as early as the 14th century. The tomb of the Virgin and the Grotto of the Apostles, surrounded by olive trees, are presented to pilgrims as Gethsemane across the Kidron Valley, as described in the Gospel narrative. Among the olive trees, Fr. Gaudenzio Orfali, a native of Nazareth (President of the Palestinian Archaeologists before his untimely death), excavated the medieval church of Saint Savior. While constructing the foundations of the new basilica commissioned by the Custody of the Holy Land, the original Byzantine church, oriented to the northeast, was uncovered. It was built into the rock in the east and supported by the fill covering the slope to the west (Orfali 1924). A fallen rectangular stone of the medieval church still retained the head of an angel. This find, as well as fragments of the fresco decoration of the church are now kept in the Museum of the Studium (Bagatti 1939: 39). The fresco decoration covering the rock-face, constituting the roof of the Grotto of the Apostles, dates to the same period. It consists of a continuous grid of pointed stars interrupted in the east by a scene with the angel presenting the chalice of the Passion to Jesus in prayer, as indicated in the Latin inscription to the left of the depiction (De Sandoli 1974: 169–72). During the restoration works in the year 1958, the removal of the floor allowed Corbo to expose multiple tombs cut into the rock and patches of a Byzantine mosaic floor with an inscription decorating one of the tombs (Corbo 1965). Amico documented the funerary monument at the Tomb of the Virgin from the 16th century, and Quaresmi provided a detailed description in his Elucidation Terrae Sanctae. Restoration work conducted after flood damage in the winter of 1972 enabled Bagatti to examine the monument (Bagatti, Piccirillo, and Prodomo 1975). The removal of several levels of plaster with traces of a wall mosaic exposed the original rock on which the arcosolium tomb in the center of the eastern sector of the church had been cut. Bagatti noted traces of Jewish kokhim on the northern wall, cut directly into the rock, and a possible stairway descending from the north. He suggested that the original tomb included three rooms: an external atrium, the inner room with kokhim, and the inner arcosolium tomb, which had been isolated. This kind of triple-room monument was described in the Dormitio Virginis, in the Ethiopic translation of a supposedly original Judeo-Christian text from Jerusalem (Corpus Scriptorum Christianorum Orientalium, Scriptores Ethiopici, series prima, VII, 35; see also Mann 1989).

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The Church of the Ascension on the Mount of Olives The Franciscans always celebrated the feast of Ascension together with the Eastern Christians of the city. The celebration takes place in the medieval edicule still standing in the center of the surrounding wall, which follows the perimeter of the Crusader church. Underground excavations carried out by Corbo within the Franciscan property located to the south of the surrounding wall revealed the radial foundation wall of the Byzantine Imbomon, the open-air colonnaded rotunda built in the year 376 by a wealthy Christian lady (Corbo 1965). Mount Zion Mount Zion still constitutes an open chapter with regard to the Franciscan presence in Jerusalem. According to an agreement reached by the kings of Naples and the Mameluk Sultan Muhammad al-Nasir in 1333, the Friars Minor were allowed to use the Upper Room, or Cenacle, and to build their convent next to it. They lived there until their expulsion in 1551. Amico left us the plan of the convent, whose small cloister is still well preserved. Excavations conducted in the area of the cemetery have revealed wall segments, fragments of mosaic floors, and pottery sherds from various periods. Notable among these are three eulogia flasks depicting Calvary and a stone eulogia mold very similar to the metal flasks kept in the Duomo Museum of Monza, Italy and in the Bobbio Abbey (Bagatti 1970: 224–46; Bagatti and Alliata 1981: 249–56).

Conclusion The presence of the Friars Minor in the service of the pilgrims and the holy sites instigated their historical interest in the Holy City. It is to them that we owe the antiquarian documentation of the sanctuaries, beginning in the 13th century and reaching a peak in the 16th–17th centuries, with Frs. de Angelis, Salandra, Amico, and Quaresmi. Topographical issues regarding Jerusalem were clarified in the 20th century as a result of work conducted by archaeologists of the Studium Biblicum, especially in areas around the holy sites entrusted to the Custody of the Holy Land by the Catholic Church in the year 1342. Excavations have revealed remains spanning the entire historical sequence between the 2nd millennium b.c.e. to the Middle Ages. For this latter period, one should point out the work dedicated to the Latin inscriptions of the Holy Sepulchre and other sacred and civic edifices in Jerusalem, collected by Fr. S. de Sandoli, some of which were accurately copied in the 17th century by Quaresmi (De Sandoli 1974).

References Anonymous 1973 Studium Biblicum Franciscanum: Nel 50mo della Fondazione (1923–1973). Jerusalem: Studium Biblicum Franciscanum. Bagatti, B. 1939 Guida al Museo. Jerusalem: Studium Biblicum Franciscanum.

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1942 Un Custode di Terra Santa archeologo pioniere, P. Gianfrancodella Salandra (15681601). Pp. 87–94 in Custodia di Terra Santa 1342–1942. Jerusalem: Tipografia di Terra Santa. 1951 Le pitture medioevali della pietra di Betfage. LA 1: 227–46. 1956 Scavo di un monastero al Dominus Flevit. LA 6: 240–70. 1969 Nuovi apporti archeologici al Dominus Flevit. LA 19: 194–236. 1970 Nuovi elementi di scavo alla ‘torre di Sion.’ LA 20: 224–46. 1971 The Church of the Circumcision: History and Archaeology of the Judaeo-Christians, trans. E. Hoade. Jerusalem. Studium Biblicum Franciscanum. 1979 Recherches sur le site du Temple de Jérusalem. Jerusalem: Studium Biblicum Franciscanum. 1984a The Church from the Gentiles in Palestine: History and Archaeology, trans. E. Hoade. Jerusalem: Studium Biblicum Franciscanum. 1984b La configurazione semiariana delle costruzioni costantiniane del S. Sepolcro a Gerusalemme. Aug. 24: 561–71. Bagatti, B., and Alliata, E. 1981 Ritrovamento archeologico sul Sion. LA 31: 249–56. Bagatti, B., and Milik, J. T. 1958 Gli scavi del Dominus Flevit, Parte I: La necropoli del periodo romano, Jerusalem: Studium Biblicum Franciscanum. Bagatti, B., Piccirillo M., and Prodomo, A. 1975 New Discoveries at the Tomb of Virgin Mary in Gethsemane. Jerusalem: Studium Biblicum Franciscanum. Bonifacius of Ragusa 1875 Liber de perenni cultu Terrae Sanctae, ed. C. da Treviso. Venezia. Corbo, V. C. 1965 Ricerche archeologiche al Monte degli Uliv. Jerusalem: Studium Biblicum Franciscanum 16. 1981 Il Santo Sepolcro di Gerusalemme, I, Testo; II, Piani; III, Documentazione fotografica. Jerusalem: Studium Biblicum Franciscanum. 1984 A proposito di presunti scavi stratigrafici al S. Sepolcro. LA 34: 409–21. De Martoni, N. 2002 Io Notaio Nicola De Martoni, Il pellegrinaggio ai Luoghi Santi da Carinola a Gerusalemme 1394–1395, ed M.Piccirillo. Jerusalem: Studium Biblicum Franciscanum. De Sandoli, S. 1990 La liberazione pacifica dei Luoghi Santi nel XIV secolo. Jerusalem: Studium Biblicum Franciscanum. 1989 Quaresmi, F., Elucidatio terrae Sanctae. Brani scelti e tradotti da S. De Sandoli, Jerusalem : Studium Biblicum Franciscanum. CICTS. 1974 Corpus Inscriptionum Crucesignatorum Terrae Sanctae. Jerusalem: Studium Biblicum Franciscanum. Diez Fernández, F. 2004 El Calvario y la Cueva de Adán: El resultado de las últimas excavaciones en la basílica del Santo Sepulcro. Estella, Spain: Verbo Divino. Di Perugia, G. F. 2001 Descriptio Terrae Sanctae, con riproduzione integrale del ms. Casanatense 3876, trans. J. Boettcher, Coordinamento Attilio Bartoli Langeli–Alviero Niccacci, Jerusalem: Studium Biblicum Franciscanum. Golubovich, G. 1906–27  Biblioteca Bio-Bibliografica della Terra Santa e dell’Ordine Francescano, Voll. I-V, Florence: Quarcchi.

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Loffreda, S.

1969 Due tombe a Betania presso le Suore della Nigrizia. LA 19: 349–66. 1974 La tomba n. 3 presso le Suore della Nigrizia a Betania. LA 24: 142–69. 1984 La tomba n. 4 del Bronzo medio II B a Betani.a LA 34: 357–70. 1985 Resti archeologici nell’area della Flagellazione in Gerusalemme. LA 35: 313–26. Lombardi, G. 1957 Bolli bizantino-arabi al Dominus Flevit. LA 7: 165–90. Manns, F. 1984 Le Saint-Sépulchre: les témoignages à travers les siècles. Le Monde de la Bible 33: 18-27. Moldovan, A. 1983 The Lost De Angelis Map of Jerusalem, 1578. The Map Collector 24 1983: 17–24. Orfali, G. 1924 Gethsémani. Paris: Picard. Piccirillo, M. 1984 Archeologia e Nuovo Testamento: Il Santo Sepolcro. Parole di Vita 29: 80–100. 1999 In the Service of the Holy Sepulchre: The Documentary Work of Three Franciscans of the 16th and 17th Centuries. Pp. 167–78 in Patterns of the Past Prospects for the Future. The Christian Heritage in the Holy Land, ed. T. Hummel, H. Hintlian, and U. Carmesund. London: Melisende. 2000 I Frati Minori al servizio dei Luoghi Santi. Pp. 44–57 in In Terra Santa: Dalla Crociata alla Custodia dei Luoghi Santi. Milano: Palazzo Reale. 2003 La Pianta di Gerusalemme di Padre Antonino De Angelis, i rilievi di padre Bernardino Amico e i modellini del S. Sepolcro e della Basilica della Natività. Pp. 77– 98 in Domini vestigia sequi. Assisi: Cittadella. 2004 La Gerusalemme Francescana. Pp. 93–118 in Una Gerusalemme Toscana sullo sfondo di due Giubilei 1500–1525, ed. S. Gelsini. Florence: Sismel. Saller, S. 1964 The Excavations at Dominus Flevit (Mount Olivet, Jerusalem), Part II: The Jebusite Burial Place. Jerusalem: Studium Biblicum Franciscanum. Saller, S. and Testa, E. 1961 The Archaeological Setting of the Shrine of Bethfage. Jerusalem: Studium Biblicum Franciscanum. 1957 Excavations at Bethany (1949–1953). Jerusalem: Studium Biblicum Franciscanum. Spijkerman, A. 1957 A Supplemental Study of the Coinage of Aelia Capitolina. LA 7: 145–64. 1958 Un nouveau lot de monnaies palestiniennes. Revue Biblique 65: 568–84. 1961 Trésor de sicles juifs trouvé au Mont des Oliviers à Jérusalem. Schweizer Münzblätter 11: 25–31. 1964 Observations on the Coinage of Aelia Capitolina. LA 14: 245–60.

The Israel Exploration Society (IES) Ronny Reich

University of Haifa

The Israel Exploration Society was established twice; the first time was on April 16, 1913. Dr. A. B. Rosenstein, in an article in the Hebrew newspaper “ha-Poel hazaʾir” (“The Young Worker”) dated the 11th of the Hebrew month of Nissan) writes the following: A Jewish Society for the exploration of Eretz-Israel. It happened at last. In the national library in Jerusalem the foundation was set for this society, whose name at the head of this article clearly testifies to its nature, its aspirations and its aims. . . .   This land is for us a terra incognita, and we intend to acquire it, neither with troops nor with force but with the spirit. And where is that spirit which brings us to life? There is no people nowadays which will conquer a land with his force alone. Any land that any cultural people thinks to settle in it (and only such a people can nowadays conquer lands), is first and foremost studied from all its aspects.

D. Yellin was elected as chairperson; A. Brawer as secretary. Additional members were A. Mazie, A. M. Lifschitz, A. B. Rosenstein, and a Mr. Waldmann. Soon after, a manifest was published in the local Hebrew-language newspaper, Haheruth, dated the 13th of the Hebrew month of Iyyar 1913, whose aim was to publicize the society’s role and to formulate its statutes. The manifest, written in a somewhat archaic Hebrew, expressed the feelings that were current at the time among Jewish intellectuals in Palestine. Our brothers who dwell in our country! Beloved and holy is our ancestor’s country to us, and beloved and holy are all its memories which remind us of our glorious past. This country of ours is a country of marvels, each footstep of which is soaked with ancient memories, and each stone is witness to the valuable events in the history of mankind in general, and those of our people in particular. Apart of the general memorial to our past, this country included, there are more particular remains in the entire country around, which pass before our eyes special periods and particular events which are very dear to us, remains of holiness, which every Jew who respects his past aspires and yearns to please and beautify them, and secular remains that each one of them is like a building-stone in the edifice of our past history, and all join together and present to our eyes the gigantic and beautiful palace, the palace of our history, when we still were a people residing on its land. All these remains, whether coins or pottery vessels, intact or broken glass vessels, fragments of iron or rusty copper tools—anything which bears a mark of antiquity is a segment in the chain which encompasses ancient generations. According to the custom in the world, that in each civilized country these dear relics are assembled to a single place, and there are arranged to various departments, and the more examples will enrich the museum, so will the visitor obtain a reliable and live notion on the various habits, on the development in craftsmanship and on periods which fell to oblivion, and which are resurrected. . . .

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Fig. 1.  Hamath-Tiberias excavations. Nahum Slouschz and his workers with the stone menorah.

It seems that they wished, among other aims, to fill a gap and to serve as a substitute for some sort of antiquities service and especially to establish a museum, which did not exist under the Ottoman authorities. Like many beginnings, this too was extremely difficult. We know of no activity that was carried out, certainly not any real investigations or studies of the land. These were difficult days, with the Ottoman regime hostile and means limited. One should remember that only two years earlier, in 1911, M. Parker, the British adventurer, had attempted to excavate within the Temple Mount compound. The Jewish initiative consisted of the excavations carried out in 1913–14 by R. Weill in the City of David, both initiated and sponsored by the Baron de Rothschild. One can assume that the establishment of the IES was a local reaction to Parker’s activity. Unfortunately, no archival material survives from the beginning of the IES. A letter was kept at the Deutsche Palästina Verein in which Yellin and Brawer introduce their newly founded society to their German colleagues who at that time were considered veterans (the German society was founded in 1877). This letter most likely constitutes the oldest extant document of the IES. 1 Invaluable information can be found in A. Brawer’s articles on the society’s history, one written on its 30th anniversary (Brawer 1943) and one on its 50th (Brawer 1963). 1.  I am indebted to my friend and colleague Dr. Hanswulf Bloedhorn, who brought the existence of this letter to my attention.

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Sometime later, the society ceased to exist. Brawer attributed this to the “War of Languages” of major concern to Jewish society at this time and also to the outbreak of World War I. In 1917, Palestine was taken over by Britain. With the establishment of the civil administration of the British Mandate in Palestine in 1920, the heyday of archaeological research began. The British government established a Department of Antiquities, headed by Prof. John Garstang. The foundations for an Ordinance of Antiquities were formulated and an Archaeological Advisory Board was established, convening regularly to advise the director of antiquities on professional matters. The basis for an intensive and scientific investigation of the land was initiated and with it the protection and conservation of its antiquities and ancient sites. The new regime in Palestine provided a fertile and favorable background to the renewed idea of establishing an institution, an initiative taken by the same group of people. In the winter of 1920 (the 8th of the Hebrew month of Kislev) the society was once again founded, this time as “The Hebrew [instead of Jewish] Society for the Exploration of Eretz-Israel and its Antiquities” (Press 1921). 2 This change, according to Brawer, was probably due to the influence of the noted Hebrew lexicographer, E. Ben-Yehuda, who became deputy chairman. The English version remained as before: “Jewish Palestine Exploration Society.” The name was subsequently changed again. After the establishment of the State of Israel in 1948, under the influence of Israel’s first prime minister, D. Ben-Gurion, the term “Hebrew” was dropped and the official name became the Israel Exploration Society, which it has retained ever since. A board of ten gentlemen was elected and objectives were formulated: a. To publish a scientific journal on occasional times, and publish the inscriptions from Palestine in special volumes; b. To establish a Hebrew Institution for the study of the Land of Israel; c. To make the nature of the land known by giving public lectures; d. To carry out excavations in the depth of our land’s ground for the discovery of antiquities.

The first issue of a scientific journal appeared as early as in 1921, publishing, among other items, the results of the first excavation at Hammath-Tiberias (see below). Paragraph b stated as follows: Establishing a Hebrew institution is a desired thing not only from a cultural-Hebrew point of view, but also for national-political reasons. When we are set to build our national home and make it a center for the culture of Israel, we cannot stand aside facing the industrious and useful competition of the world’s nations and their scholars over the study of our forefathers’ land. It is our holy duty to establish in our holy city of Jerusalem, next to the British, American, Dominican [i.e., the French] and German institutions, a Hebrew institution, in which Hebrew scholars and their disciples will concentrate on the study of our land, in the spirit of Israel, that is according to our knowledge in our literature, and our emotions in the history of our people, special to

2.  Note that the non-Hebrew title of the first issue of the Journal Qobez was written in French, which had been mastered by Slouschz and Ben-Yehuda, rather than in English.

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us. We have to hurry, to double and triple our forces, to achieve in the future what we have neglected in the past (Press 1921: 91–2).

Written documents pertaining to the second beginning of the IES are still missing from the IES archives. However, certain documents kept in the archives of the Department of Antiquities compensate for this lack: the ATQ series of files, stored at the Rockefeller Museum in Jerusalem. 3 The first meeting of the Advisory Board took place on September 20, 1920, conducted in the presence of High Commissioner Sir Herbert Samuel. 4 The board members were supposed to represent the different scholarly institutions in Palestine. The first meeting included J. Garstang as chair, W. Pithian-Adams (British School), A. Berlozzi, Father M.-J. Lagrange (École biblique), Archimandrite Kleopas, W. F. Albright (American School of Oriental Research), and finally A. Ruppin, representing the Jewish interests. The latter’s nomination should be perceived as a misunderstanding by the authorities, who were probably not aware of the reestablishment of the IES. 5 After bringing this fact to the board’s attention, N. Slouschz, a scholar representing the IES, was included. During the following years, the lexicographer E. Ben-Yehuda and, later, the historian J. Klausner represented the IES on the board.

The First Excavations The first application requesting an excavation permit was submitted to the board on behalf of the IES at the third meeting of the board, on November 11, 1920. Their intent was to excavate the ancient synagogue discovered by chance when the road south of Tiberias was built. Permit No. 1 authorizing several soundings was granted to Slouschz on behalf of the Jewish Archaeological Society on November 2, 1920, initially for two months, a time-limit that was later extended. Noteworthy is that the IES also applied for a permit to excavate the remains of a synagogue at ʿEin Dok (Naʿaran), another chance discovery north of Jericho during the war. Father Lagrange, who made the same request on behalf of the École biblique, obtained the permit. On May 16, 1921, Slouschz reported the discovery of a stone menorah. The fact that the first excavation carried out by the earliest learned Jewish society or institution established in the country (The Hebrew University of Jerusalem was established about five years later) was perceived as symbolic. The stone menorah, the most important find uncovered in the ancient synagogue, remains to this day a unique item. Much later, it was adopted as the logo appearing on all IES publications. The artifacts revealed at the Hamath-Tiberias excavation also constitute the beginning of a collection of antiquities, which later became part of the collection of the Bezalel College of Art and Design and ultimately the core of Jerusalem’s Israel Museum collection.

3.  I wish to thank Ms. N. Feig and Mr. A. Rochman-Halperin, archivists at the IAA, for their assistance. 4. File ATQ/14, from the years 1920–24. 5.  Dr. A. Ruppin acted on behalf the Zionist “Committee of Representatives.”

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During the period of the British Mandate in Palestine, the IES was responsible for the very first archaeological excavations conducted by a Jewish organization in Palestine. In addition to the excavation of Hammath-Tiberias (N. Slouschz 1920–21), excavations were carried out at Absalom’s Tomb (N. Slouschz 1924) 6 and the Third Wall in Jerusalem (E. L. Sukenik and L. A. Mayer 1925–27, 1940), Ramat Rahel (B. Mazar and M. Stekelis 1931), Beth Sheʿarim (B.Mazar 1936–40), and Beth Yerah (B. Mazar, M. Stekelis, I. Dunayewski, and M. Avi-Yonah 1944–45).

The Unsuccessful Ophel Operation  7 Shortly after the establishment of the Department of Antiquities, J. Garstang, director of antiquities, realized the importance of Jerusalem in general and that of the City of David in particular. His strong sense of scientific responsibility, and perhaps also his religious convictions, led him to realize that the city and this particular site were part of the heritage of the entire public. He initiated an international project dedicated to excavating the hill, under the direction of a multinational consortium. The Archaeological Advisory Board approved the statutes of this operation. Surprisingly, very few institutions responded positively to his call. One condition was that each partner would contribute the sum of 5,000 Egyptian pounds. The Palestine Exploration Fund faced the problem of raising the money and recruiting a scholar for this task. Finally R. A. S. Macalister reluctantly agreed to participate. Rothschild had no problems raising the funds but had to persuade, once again, the Egyptologist Weill (who had excavated on that hill in 1913–14) to return to the site for a second time. It seems that the only institution eager to be involved was the IES. They, too, were approached by Garstang to take part in this international project (the Hebrew University had not yet been established). Press and Ben-Yehuda informed the director of the Department of Antiquities that they would also take part (letter dated Sept. 26, 1922) in this collaboration. A permit was issued (No. 16) to excavate lots No. 15 and 17 and possibly Nos. 13 and 19. We have no information as to why only the IES was unable to obtain the necessary permits and as a result did not participate in the excavation. It may have been a result of their failure to raise the necessary 5,000 Egyptian pounds. Public lectures were organized from the beginning in 1920. In 1943, when the society celebrated its 30th anniversary, the first Hebrew Archaeological Conference convened in Jerusalem. 8 The 250 people in the audience were a significant number, given the country’s small Jewish community. Lines of communication during this period were very primitive. It was thus astounding that people arrived from 6.  This excavation appears for a short time (some 10 seconds) on a motion picture shot on location by J. Ben-Dov. This seems to be the first excavation in Palestine ever to be recorded on film. The footage is kept at the Steven Spielberg Archive of Jewish Films at the Hebrew University, Jerusalem. 7. Files ATQ/169; ATQ/1789 at the IAA archives. 8.  The First Hebrew Archaeological Conference, Jerusalem was held on October 15th–18, 1943. See Qobes Ha-Hebrah Ha-ʿIbrith La-Ḥaqirath Ereṣ-Yisraʾel we-ʾAttiqoteha, IV, Jewish Palestine Exploration Society, Jerusalem, 1945, pp. v–xxvi.

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places as remote as ʿEn Gev and Shaʿar Hagolan in the north, from the Dead Sea region in the south, and many additional places. Tours were organized, to, among other places, the City of David, the Kidron Valley monuments, and the Rockefeller Museum. 9 This was the start of a long tradition of annual conferences, which gained great popularity over the next 40 years. More than 60 annual conventions and three international conferences constituted one of the main outreach activities bringing together scholars and the lay public. The annual conferences are still being held.

After the Establishment of the State of Israel After Israel’s War of Independence in 1948, the IES received the first excavation permit issued by the Israeli government, enabling B. Mazar from the Hebrew University to excavate at Tell Qasile on the outskirts of Tel Aviv. The IES is not an academic institution like the departments of archaeology in Israeli universities or like some of the foreign schools and institutions active in Israel. Apart from an office in Jerusalem, the IES possesses no laboratories, library, storerooms, or lecture halls. It is a public organization that sponsors, supports, and organizes archaeological excavations, surveys, and various studies. In most cases, these activities are carried out in collaboration with other institutions, in particular with the Hebrew University and with the Israel Antiquities Authority (until 1991 the Israel Department of Antiquities and Museums). Since then, the IES has organized and sponsored some of the most important archaeological projects carried out in the country, including Hazor, Masada, the excavations near the Temple Mount, the Jewish Quarter, the City of David in Jerusalem, the Judean Desert Expeditions, En-Gedi, Arad, Lachish, Aphek, Herodian Jericho, Jokneam, Dor, and Megiddo, to name only the most prominent ones. The IES plays a key role in archaeological research spanning all periods, from prehistoric times to the Ottoman period. It coordinates many of the multi-institutional archaeological research projects carried out by both Israeli and foreign archaeological expeditions in Israel. A major activity of the IES consists of the publication of all archaeological activities in Israel. This final product constitutes the fruit of all who are involved in the labor. The IES has become the most important publisher of archaeological reports of the excavations it has sponsored. The list is far too long and cannot be reproduced in this context. The publication process began with a scientific journal called Qobez (in Hebrew). The first of four volumes appeared already in 1921. Later followed Yediot, or the Bulletin of the Jewish Palestine Exploration Society, of which 31 volumes were published, in Hebrew, between 1933 and 1967. This journal was replaced by Qadmoniot, which, given its style and color plates, was intended as a more popular publication. Qadmoniot started in 1968 and has appeared ever since. The more scientific journals are the Israel Exploration Journal (since 1950) and the Eretz-Israel Festschrift series published in Hebrew and English in honor of leading 9.  At the museum, a special display of forgeries was prepared, and R. W. Hamilton, Director of Antiquities, delivered a lecture on the forged Schapira antiquities.

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international scholars in these fields. Volume 30, in honor of Amnon Ben-Tor, is about to appear. Major activities undertaken by the IES include coordinating excavations, overseeing and channeling budgets of archaeological projects, publishing excavation reports, and serving as liaison for collaborations between Israeli and foreign institutions with regard to the publication process and, finally, more generally promoting the cause of archaeology. Another facet of IES activity is the dissemination of knowledge gained from the exploration of Israel to the general public in Israel and abroad. Since 1943, more than 60 archaeological conferences have been held for members of the IES. These annual gatherings include lectures by archaeologists and guided tours of recently discovered sites. Hebrew-speaking members receive the bi-annual Qadmoniot, while the bi-annual Israel Exploration Journal caters to the English reader. The IES, in cooperation with other institutions, has held more than 35 annual meetings for the professional archaeological community in Israel. Two international congresses on Biblical Archaeology were held, in 1984 and 1990, attracting hundreds of participants from around the world. The proceedings of both have been published in two volumes entitled Biblical Archaeology Today. In 1997, an international congress was held in Jerusalem, marking 50 years since the discovery of the Dead Sea Scrolls. The proceedings have appeared in the volume The Dead Sea Scrolls Fifty Years after Their Discovery. The IES is a nonprofit organization governed by an executive committee and a council comprising representatives from all the Israeli institutes of archaeology and several major archaeological museums.

Present and Future The Israel Exploration Society continues to play an active role in both the scientific and public spheres. During the coming years, the IES will edit and publish the results of some of the most important archaeological excavations being carried out throughout Israel: Hazor, Masada, En-Gedi, Sepphoris, Megiddo, Jokneam, Arad, Tiberias, and the Jewish Quarter and City of David in Jerusalem. Another highlight of the IES’s extensive publications program will be The Ancient Pottery of Israel and Its Neighbors from the Neolithic through the Hellenistic Period, which will appear as a three-volume set and is being prepared in collaboration with the Israel Antiquities Authority and the W. F. Albright Institute. The New Encyclopedia of Archaeological Excavations in the Holy Land appeared in four volumes, both in Hebrew and in English in 1993. A fifth updated volume has appeared recently (2008), making it an invaluable source for the study of the archaeology of the Land of Israel. The IES has had several presidents, and many archaeologists have excavated with its support, but only one person should be mentioned, because his name is inseparable from the activity of IES over the last 60 years (out of its 94 years of existence), namely, J. Aviram, the society’s secretary and its living spirit. 10 10.  Others in this capacity: M. Brawer (1920–29) and B. Mazar (1929–40). Volume 25 of EretzIsrael (1996) was dedicated to Aviram.

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In 1989, the Israel Exploration Society was awarded the prestigious Israel Prize for its unique contribution to society and to the State of Israel. In the words of the committee of judges: “It has been the principal and most effective institution for furthering knowledge of the archaeology and history of the country both at home and abroad since it was founded seventy-five years ago.” The committee emphasized “the contribution of Mr. Joseph Aviram, who for many years has been the initiator, planner and organizer of all the society’s activities and has done much to disseminate them among the public at large.” 11 11.  Israel Exploration Journal 39 (1989), pp. 128–29. This note appeared unsigned in IEJ.

Bibliography Brawer, A. J. 1943 The Establishing of the Jewish Palestine Exploration Society. Yediot (=Bulletin of the Jewish Palestine Exploration Society) 10/2–3: 125–28. [Hebrew] 1963 From the Early Days of the Israel Exploration Society. Pp. 228–36 in Western Galilee and the Coast of Galilee. Proceedings of the Nineteenth Archaeological Convention, October 1963, Jerusalem, 1965. [Hebrew] Press, I. 1921 Compte-Rendu du Secrétaire, Recueil Publié par la Société Hébraïque d’Exploration et d’Arcéologie Palestinienne, 1/1: 91–94. [Hebrew]

The Departments of Antiquities and the Israel Antiquities Authority (1918–2006): The Jerusalem Experience Jon Seligman

Israel Antiquities Authority

Introduction Statutory organizations for archaeology, built heritage, as well as nature or ecological conservation are an essential part of governmental structure for the preservation of heritage in all countries. While they are often viewed as enemies of progress, especially by those who would benefit from their absence, these organizations are essential if we are to pass on to future generations both tangible and intangible values. These organizations are among the benefits of the modern world, yet the values they represent are products of the age of enlightenment, which influenced the original philosophy of these bodies and the ways in which they related to society as consumers of the values they were designed to conserve. Certainly, the British Mandatory Department of Antiquities was a product of its time. Britain was at the zenith of its imperial power and related to the administration of territories under its control in a paternalistic manner that could never have taken root in Britain itself. Luckily for us, Anglo-Saxon principles of ownership were rejected when it came to ruling the “natives.” Thus, the control that British citizens have over the antiquities on their private property was not transferred to Mandatory Palestine and other countries, leaving monopolistic ownership of antiquities to the state. Private ownership of land in Mandatory Palestine would only apply to the use of land for building, agriculture, or other functionary requirements set by zoning. Antiquities found on that land belonged, and still do, to the state 1—the land-owner’s legal responsibility being to safeguard the find and report its discovery to the state. Jerusalem, as the capital of Mandatory Palestine and the seat of government, would become a central concern of the new archaeological authorities.

Founding of Mandatory Government of Palestine Department of Antiquities (GPDA) One of the first actions of the British occupiers of Jerusalem in 1918 was Military Governor Ronald Storrs’s (fig. 1) proclamation to preserve the city of Jerusalem in the area of the Old City and its surroundings. 2 This, and the foundation of the 1.  See clause 2 of the Antiquities Law 1978. 2.  Proclamation of April 18, 1919, issued by the British Military Governor of Jerusalem, Col. Ronald Storrs.

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interfaith Pro-Jerusalem Society, whose declared aim was the “preservation and advancement of the interests of Jerusalem,” attested to the fact that the new administration took the preservation of the city to be an important policy issue (Ashbee 1921). With the 1922 establishment of the British Mandatory government under the aegis of the League of Nations, the new authority was given the task of securing and preserving the important built heritage of the country. Indeed, Article 21 of the Mandate specifically requires the legislation of an Antiquities Law and the formation of a competent department to manage archaeology and grant permits for excavation. 3 In the same year, the new Mandatory Government of Palestine established a modern instrument for the Fig. 1.  Ronald Storrs: British Military preservation, research, and excavation of Governor of Jerusalem in 1918 and founder of the Pro-Jerusalem Society. the antiquities of the county. The Department of Antiquities was set up together with a museum whose aim was to collect and display the antiquities of the Holy Land within the country’s borders for the benefit of its citizens. This constituted a break from previous imperialist practice of removing Palestine’s most important artifacts to other countries—especially Britain, France, Germany, the US, and Turkey. Indeed, Turkey still holds some of Jerusalem’s most important artifacts in the Museum of the Ancient Orient in Istanbul. The department was set up with offices in Jerusalem, the Mandatory seat of government. Its first director, John Garstang (fig. 2), oversaw a staff of British, Jewish, and Arab professionals based in Jerusalem but operating throughout the Mandate’s territory. Inspection of both regional areas and Jerusalem was carried out by local inspectors who submitted to the central archives in the capital reports of finds and damage to antiquities due to the country’s rapid development. In this context, we should also note other aspects of modern archaeological administration introduced at this time. These were the outcome of the Antiquities Ordinance of 1929, which required citizens to coordinate work on archaeological sites with the department in line with the requirements stipulated in the Mandatory document. The ordinance required the documentation, scheduling, and registration of sites and thus necessitated the involvement of the Antiquities Department in the planning process. These activities are still central to the function of the archaeological 3.  League of Nations Mandatory document; see: http://www.yale.edu/lawweb/avalon/mideast/ palmanda.htm.

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administration of Israel. All such matters are comprehensively documented in the department’s archives, together with detailed descriptive and photographic records of every known site in Jerusalem and the rest of the country. These records still form unique testimony of the archaeological sites and of the quality of the GPDA’s management structure. Based on the data collected, decisions were made concerning the necessity for a new entity in the archaeological world—the salvage excavation. During the years of British rule, numerous salvage digs were conducted, many of them in Jerusalem. The Antiquities Department excavated under its own auspices, through the schools of biblical study and archaeology that grew Fig. 2.  John Garstang: first Director of the in the city, through foreign del- Department of Antiquities of the mandatory egations, and through the newly Government of Palestine. emerging academic institutions of the Jewish community—the Hebrew University and the Jewish Exploration Society. A total of 140 excavations were conducted during the mandate. 4 Seventy-six of these were executed by GPDA staff, using British archeologists—C. N. Johns, J. Iliffe, R. Hamilton (fig. 3) (who later served as director of the department)—and local archaeologists—S. Husseini, N. Mahouli, and most notably D. Baramki, who were trained by the GPDA. There was a growing pattern of increased responsibility for archaeological research, in place of external institutions developed though the mandatory period, a process that repeated itself in the period that followed the Six Day War. Many of the excavations consisted of salvage work following chance discoveries of antiquities during development. Thus, numerous excavations of tombs became a central aspect of the work of the GPDA. Notable excavations conducted on behalf of the Department in the city were those of Johns at the Citadel (fig. 4) and at Gethsemane ( Johns 1937 and 1950), the work at the YMCA by J. Iliffe (1934); by R.W. Hamilton (1940) along the northern wall of the Old City, the approach to 4.  All the statistical data for this paper have been collated by the author from the archives of the Israel Antiquities Authority, from the records of excavation licenses granted to archaeologists of all institutions by the Departments of Antiquities and the Israel Antiquities Authority.

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Fig. 3.  Robert Hamilton: Director of the Department of Antiquities.

Lion’s Gate (fig. 5), at the Damascus Gate, and in the al-Aqsa Mosque (Hamilton 1949); by Baramki on the monasteries near the Third Wall (Baramki 1936), Ein Hanniya (Baramki 1934), and in other areas within the city. The results of these excavations were comprehensively published in the Department’s in-house journal—the Quarterly of the Department of Antiquities of Palestine, affectionately known as QDAP. This period was also marked by the deep involvement of the department in the management of the holy sites. Close contacts were established between the department and the Supreme Muslim Council (the Waqf), which was charged with religious and physical maintenance of the Temple Mount—Haram el-Sharif (Avni and Seligman 2001: 11). This issue was especially acute due to the poor physical state of the historic monuments on the site owing to continual neglect during the last phase of the Ottoman rule. Inspectors working for the Department of Antiquities had free access to almost every place on the Temple Mount, and they were allowed to record, measure, and photograph its major monuments. Throughout the years of British Mandate rule, documentation and surveys continued on the Temple Mount

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Fig. 4.  Cedric Johns’s excavation of the Citadel.

for preservation purposes, including that of the Dome of the Rock and the al-Aqsa Mosque. These professional activities were recognized by the Waqf and promoted good working relations between the functionaries on both sides. These professional ties were maintained by the directors of the Department of Antiquities, who took a personal active role in the documentation work. E. T. Richmond, who in 1927 would be appointed director of the Department of Antiquities, was an architect who had worked previously on the preservation of Islamic monuments in Cairo. Upon Storrs’s invitation, he conducted a detailed architectural survey of the crumbling Dome of the Rock; this survey was published in a magnificent volume in 1924 that provided the first modern overview of the site, including analysis of previous attempts to maintain the building (Richmond 1924). The attitude toward preservation Richmond presented was both modern and extremely professional, evincing a clear understanding that an edifice like the Dome of the Rock is a living structure, changing with time in order to continue its existence. Between 1938 and

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Fig. 5.  A salvage excavation on the approach to the Lions Gate.

1942, Hamilton, the Director of Antiquities, documented the al-Aqsa Mosque and conducted limited excavations in the building while extensive repairs were underway after the earthquake of 1927 (Hamilton 1949). These engineering-architectural studies resulted from the need to report on the structural stability of the monuments due the fear of collapse from weakened foundations. The swan-song of the GDPA was also a document for the conservation of the Haram, prepared by A. H. S. Megaw, the Director of the Department of Antiquities in Cyprus. The report, only presented in 1952, formed the basis of the renovations conducted at the site by the Jordanians beginning in the mid-1950s. 5 Similar involvement of the department was evident with regard to the Holy Sepulchre. Again, it followed severe structural damage to the already neglected monument as a consequence of the earthquake of July 1927 and the inability of the churches to reach an agreement concerning its repair. In contrast to the Temple Mount, where much of the activity of the authorities consisted of inspection visits and irregular meetings of the professional staff of the department and officials of the Waqf, the involvement of these same officials in the matters of the church was much more intensive. A joint professional committee of the Department of Antiquities and the Christian communities was established, and the Archaeological Council was actively involved in professional issues concerning the church raised during those meetings. 5.  Unfortunately, the Megaw report was not published.

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Fig. 6.  The Palestine Archaeological Museum or Rockefeller Museum, home of the Department of Antiquities and today the headquarters of the Israel Antiquities Authority.

Thus for example, the renovation and replacement of the dome of the Catholicon in the 1930s was funded jointly by the Mandatory government of Palestine and the Greek Orthodox Patriarchate, under the guidance of the Public Works Department and the GPDA. The government appointed specialists in the fields of architecture and engineering, led by W. Harvey, who also published their work in detailed reports concerning the structural state of various elements of the church (Harvey 1935). The most important example of the cooperation between the Mandatory Department of Antiquities and the heads of the Christian communities was the close coordination when removing the highly decorative lintels of the Crusader period from the entrance to the Holy Sepulchre for treatment and safe-keeping. This task was conducted in 1929, with the assurance that the Mandatory authorities would return the lintels to their original place after their consolidation and reversal of the disintegration of the lintel’s decorative elements. Due to the precarious state of the lintels, they remain in the Rockefeller Museum (fig. 6) to this day; our own dealings with the church authorities to replace them with replicas have not reached fruition.

Two Jerusalems—Two Antiquities Authorities The excellent work of the Mandatory Department of Antiquities left a firm physical and professional foundation for the formation of similar departments in Jordan and the newly established State of Israel. Furthermore, UN decisions prior to Israel’s War of Independence had provided for an extraterritorial status for Jerusalem and its antiquities. The Palestine Archaeological Museum, its contents, library, and archive were to be managed by an international committee, with the involvement of both parties to the conflict. In reality, this never materialized. Jewish workers of the previous Mandatory body were unable to access the building, and, similarly, Arab workers abandoned their posts in areas now occupied by the new State of Israel. The committee for the museum demanded that former Jewish employees of the

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GPDA return books and other items to the museum, while Israel insisted that their scholars should have copies of the archives and that committee meetings be held at a neutral location (Kletter 2006: 182, 185–86). This stalemate and Jordanian suspicion of a foreign-controlled institution in its midst reached its zenith in 1966 with the disbanding of the International Committee for the management of the Palestine Museum and the nationalization of the collection by the Hashemite Kingdom (Kletter 2006: 190–92). Inadvertently, this action allowed the Israel Department of Antiquities and Museums (IDAM) to take the offices of the museum for their own only one year later, an action that I doubt Israel would have taken without the unilateral decision of Jordan. In East Jerusalem, the Jordanians managed the antiquities of the city through Y. Saʾad, who had offices in the Rockefeller Museum as its keeper, working under Director Lancaster-Harding, who was based in Amman. The 19 years of Jordanian rule were marked by low levels of activity by the Jordanian Department of Antiquities. Except for a single small excavation conducted in 1951 by A. Dajani in Qalandia in north Jerusalem, salvage excavations at the time were not conducted by the staff of the department but were offered instead to archaeologists of the British School of Archaeology. Thus, a series of projects were conducted under the auspices and directorship of K. Kenyon—the Muristan, Armenian Garden, Nablus Road (below the offices of what is today the Ministry of Justice), the Ophel—and in Silwan—the City of David (Kenyon 1967, Prag 1995, Tushingham 1985). During this era, the cooperation between the Jordanian Department of Antiquities and the Waqf began to deteriorate. This is best exemplified by a seemingly small incident in 1953, when documentation was required following the collapse of part of the mosaic covering the walls of the Dome of the Rock. Responding to Prof. K. A. C. Creswell’s request to erect scaffolding so that the mosaics could be examined, Lancaster-Harding observed: “By the law I have no control over any religious buildings which are actually in use, but I might be able to pull a few strings.” Saʿad’s attempt to facilitate this intervention was met with a curt reply: The Waqf refused the request, explaining that it was unwilling for worshipers to be disturbed by photography (Avni and Seligman 2001: 22). Indeed, personal discussion of the issue with archaeologists active in Jerusalem at the time points to a withdrawal of the involvement of Jordan’s Department of Antiquities in the management of the holy sites and to a decrease of their activity in the city in general. The armistice agreement of 1949 had left Israel in control of the western suburbs of Jerusalem but disconnected from the city’s major archaeological sites. Still, in April 1950, Jerusalem was allotted an antiquities guard, who had the status of a police officer, by the newly formed but under-resourced Israel Department of Antiquities and Museums (IDAM), which was directed by one of archaeology’s unsung heroes, S. Yeivin (Kletter 2006: 124). In 1953, there were two guards, one at the Tombs of the Sanhedrin and another with general responsibility for the city’s sites (Kletter 2006: 128). The unit of guards would develop in later years into the mobile inspection system operated today. During the initial period, the archaeological inspection of the city was managed by M. Avi-Yonah (fig. 7), who also excavated

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Fig. 7.  Michael Avi Yonah, first Israeli inspector of antiquities in Jerusalem.

the remains of a monastery at Binyanei Haʾuma, the Jerusalem International Convention Center (Avi- Yonah 1949), after they had been damaged by the contractor at the site. The policy of salvage excavations that developed during this period functioned according to the same basic principles still in use today. Certainly, the policy of funding, whereby IDAM paid for the costs of everything but labor, must have been a factor that limited the possibility of conducting archaeological work. Several cases are recorded in which antiquities were destroyed due to the lack of excavation due to budgetary limitations. This would change drastically with the founding of the IAA. Although Jerusalem underwent massive development to the west during these years, only 88 excavations were conducted from 1949 to 1967, 60 of these by IDAM’s over-stretched staff. R. Amiran, who by 1951 had replaced Avi-Yonah and was given the title and post of Inspector of Antiquities for the Jerusalem Region, investigated the stone heaps in Kiryat Menachem (Amiran 1958) and tombs at Har Hamenuchot (Amiran 1951). The so-called “Tombs of the Sanhedrin” (fig. 8) were excavated by E. Ben-Dor and J. Rothschild (1952) and preserved by the conservation team under A. Hiram. In 1956, the Tomb of Jason in Rehavia was uncovered by L. Yizhak Rahmani (1967) This case proved to be one of the few occasions in which IDAM insisted on expropriating a site from the legal owners in order to preserve it. Rahmani, Ben Dor, Y. Landau, O. Negbi, and others also researched dozens

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Fig. 8.  The “Tombs of the Sanhedrin”: the major Jerusalem project of IDAM between 1948 and 1967.

Fig. 9.  ʿAtiqot.

Fig. 10.  The Survey of Jerusalem.

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of tombs inadvertently exposed during construction. Mount Zion, the only area of the Old City under Israeli control, became a military area, with archaeological activity limited to a small excavation conducted by J. Pinkerfeld in 1949 (1960). Publication would become a major pitfall of IDAM’s archaeological work. Excavations were to be published in ʿAtiqot, IDAM’s new publication (fig. 9). But excavation processing was slow, with budgets directed primarily to digging. By 1967, IDAM had only managed to publish 11 slim volumes of its journal. Another feature of IDAM’s work was the use of unemployed laborers in archaeological excavations as relief work. While this was a major feature of excavations outside the capital, especially in Caesarea, Hazor, and elsewhere, Jerusalem was allotted six laborers for permanent work in the city (Kletter 2006: 144). What exactly these workers did is not clear. As a system of employment used by IDAM and later the IAA, this would remain one of the only ways that archaeology could find state sponsorship for the salaries of otherwise unfunded workers and a certain way to reduce unemployment numbers prior to elections!

The Israel Department of Antiquities and Museums (IDAM) and the Israel Antiquities Authority (IAA): 1967–2006. Shortly after the Six Day War, Israeli law was imposed on all of Jerusalem. Israeli antiquity law was quickly enacted, and by August 1967, Jerusalem was declared part of an antiquities site encompassing the entire Old City and its surroundings. 6 The activity of the archaeological authorities went through various stages of development, depending on resources available and upon the emphases placed by Directors of the IDAM and later the IAA and by the Jerusalem District or Regional Archaeologist who occupied that position. Following 1967 Jerusalem underwent vigorous growth, expanding into previously untouched natural areas that surrounded the city. The immediate threat to the archaeological landscape and sites was evident. The Jerusalem District archaeologists —J. Naveh, A. Kloner, and D. Bahat—accompanied the planning, changing plans to preserve antiquity sites and calling for the execution of salvage excavation prior to development. From 1967 to 1979, excavation numbers exploded, with 150 such ventures in the city and an additional 95 excavations, until the dissolution of IDAM in 1990. As part of a national systematic archaeological survey conducted by a sub-agency of IDAM, Jerusalem was given preference due to the immediate threat of loss of vital archaeological data in the periphery of the ancient city (fig. 10). A number of teams covered every meter of the city and its surroundings under the leadership of the Jerusalem District Archaeologist, Kloner (2000, 2001, and 2003). The results of this survey are three important volumes that document 900 sites outside the walls of the Old City, both significant and insignificant, small and large, providing critical information on the archaeology of Jerusalem prior to the destruction of many of those sites that resulted from development. 6. The Old City of Jerusalem and its surrounding were declared antiquities sites within the provision of the Antiquities Ordinance in the Official Gazette number 1390 on August 31, 1967.

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Fig. 11.  Excavation of the Broad Wall In the Jewish Quarter.

In the Old City, IDAM became involved in the huge national project to rebuild the Jewish Quarter. In keeping with attitudes current in Israel at that time, IDAM dealt only with aspects concerning underground remains. The preservation and documentation of ruins and standing monuments were unfortunately left exclusively to the responsibility and good will of the Jewish Quarter Development Company, the government agency entrusted with the rehabilitation of the site. Still, the opportunity to investigate remains under the houses presented itself, and Prof. N. Avigad was given the task of directing the huge, unprecedented excavations for the Hebrew University, in association with IDAM, prior to the rebuilding of the Jewish Quarter (fig. 11) (Avigad 1980). The important results of this excavation were greatly supplemented by those of a second joint project of the Hebrew University and IDAM. These excavations, led by B. Mazar, concentrated on the exposure of remains southwest of the Temple Mount and in the Ophel area. Huge expanses of remnants of the Second Temple, Byzantine, and Umayyad periods were exposed (Ben-Dov 1982). Further work within the walls included excavations at the Citadel

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Fig. 12.  Excavation of the “Abba” Tomb in Givat HaMivtar.

conducted by R. Amiran, A. Eitan, and H. Gevʿa; D. Bahat in the Armenian Garden; and M. Magen below the Damascus Gate. Many salvage excavations were carried out in the area surrounding the Old City: Magen Broshi to the west of the Old City; tombs on Mount Scopus, Givat HaMivtar, French Hill, and elsewhere by V. Tzaferis (fig. 12), A. Kloner, and others; the Third Wall by S. Ben-Arieh and E. Netzer; and further afield A. Kloner, Y. Gath, G. Edelstein, G. Mazor, and many others investigated the neighborhoods of Ramot, East Talpiyot, Har Nof, Gilo, etc. 7 During this period, the Ministry of Religious Affairs exploited the status of the Western Wall as a religious site—thus beyond the direct jurisdiction of the Law of Antiquities—to conduct uncontrolled diggings along the Western Wall. After years of conflict over this issue, archaeological control was established by Director A. Eitan, and the Jerusalem District Archaeologist, D. Bahat, was given stewardship of the work. The excavation, which has been conducted intermittently ever since, has provided insights to this area of the city, especially to the numerous Mamluk buildings that overlie the tunnel and aspects of the construction of the Western Wall. Underground work along the western limit of the Temple Mount, given its sensitive 7.  Most of these excavations were detailed in the volumes of ʿAtiqot and Hadashot Archaeologiyot and can all be found through the on-line library search of the IAA.

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The Temple Mount—Haram el-Sharif Immediately after the 1967 war, special arrangements were made for the administration of the Temple Mount area (fig. 13) (Avni and Seligman 2001: 24). According to the instructions of then Defense Minister M. Dayan, the Waqf was granted full civilian authority over the enclosure, whereas the Israel Police was made responsible for its security. Following the model of the Mandatory Antiquities Ordinance, the Israeli Antiquities Law provided the IDAM and the IAA with only limited authority over religious sites. For the first 20 years of Israeli rule in Fig. 13.  A booklet describing the history east Jerusalem, IDAM maintained regular of archaeological inspection on the Temple contacts with the Waqf in all matters conMount / Haram al-Sharif. cerning the Temple Mount. From time to time, departmental inspectors would visit the mount, sometimes accompanied by police officers or government representatives. During this period, especially from the mid-1980s onward, informal relationships were established between IDAM representatives and the professional staff of the Waqf, mainly engineers and architects responsible on behalf of the Waqf for the development and maintenance work on the platform. These relationships consisted primarily of occasional meetings of individuals during which views and opinions were presented regarding various issues concerning activities on top of and surrounding the Temple Mount. At the same time, the Waqf consistently declined officially to inform Israeli authorities of their plans for construction and development on the Temple Mount. On occasion, mainly when the Waqf was engaged in construction or earthmoving operations on the Mount, questions concerning archaeological supervision and prevention of damage to antiquities arose; these questions frequently had to be settled at the political and legal level. From 1988 on, the legal situation on the Mount changed following an appeal brought before the Israel Supreme Court by the Temple Mount Faithful movement and in light of the directives issued by the attorney general, whose office reviewed the authority and the modus operandi of government agencies in relation to works on the mount. In accordance with these directives, IDAM, and later the IAA, conducted regular inspection tours on the Temple Mount, monitoring work of various types—construction, development,

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Fig. 14.  Amir Drori, founder of the IAA, in his office in the Rockefeller Museum.

and conservation­­ ––and submitted reports of those inspections to the attorney general.

The Israel Antiquities Authority In 1989, General (res.) Amir Drori (fig. 14) was appointed to revive the weak and inefficient IDAM. He accepted the position on the condition that he would be able to transform the IDAM into an independent government authority, outside the direct control of the Ministry of Education and Culture. In April 1990, the Israel Antiquities Authority was established. The nature of archaeological inspection changed, as did the intensity of demands by the IAA for salvage excavation before development. The new, dynamic IAA would become involved in long-term excavations of major sites and established a large conservation unit for the preservation of finds. In Jerusalem, G. Avni was given the task of building the new Jerusalem Region, which consisted of the city of Jerusalem and the area to its west. Over the past 16 years the department has developed into a dynamic entity with around 40 staff members, divided into areas of responsibility: West Jerusalem, East Jerusalem, the Old City, and the Judean Hills within the Green Line. All plans for building and infrastructure undergo inspection and impact surveys are composed; development surveys are conducted in areas that are not known in full detail; watching briefs are performed day and night; systematic inspections or even policing of the sites are carried out; cases are brought against violators of the Antiquities Law; contacts with a myriad of governmental, municipal, public, religious, and private bodies are maintained; salvage excavations and their publication, mainly in the IAA’s

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GPDA IDAM JDA IAA non DA non JDA

Government of Palestine, Department of Anquities Israel Department of Antiquities Jordan Department of Antiquities Israel Antiquities Authority excavations conducted by other organizations excavations conducted by other organizations under Jordan

Fig. 15.  Graph showing organizational auspices of excavations in Jerusalem.

journals, are conducted; the youth of the city is being instructed in various aspects of archaeology by the education unit. Without going into too much detail, I would like to concentrate on a number of areas of activity that characterize the years of IAA work in Jerusalem. In 1994, the IAA formed a coalition of organizations to sponsor the redevelopment of the archaeological area excavated by B. Mazar to the south of the Temple Mount. Israel had been rightly criticized for the neglect of spectacular finds that had been uncovered to the chagrin of the diplomatic world after 1967. The IAA pushed for the presentation of the new Jerusalem Archaeological Park, generating both public and private funds for the work. A decision was made to reopen excavation at the site under the directorship of R. Reich, Y. Billig, and Y. Baruch, to make the site comphrehensible to the general public. The team opened up squares along the socalled “Herodian Street” and exposed the area between the eastern Cardo and the Umayyad palaces. As anyone who has visited Jerusalem over the past five or so years can validate, the archaeological park and the associated Davidson visitors center are a valuable addition to the city. For the IAA, this venture, as well as others around the country, formed the foundation for proper conservation work and pushed the IAA into the field of site development. The growth of the conservation department from a single architect in the last years of IDAM’s existence into a large department including architects, engineers, planners, and conservation specialists of mosaics, frescos, metal, the Dead Sea Scrolls, pottery, etc., constitutes in my view one of the major achievements of the IAA. In fact, the Archaeological Park formed part of the larger so-called “King’s Valley Project,” which envisioned changes and improvement of many of the sites around

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Fig. 16.  Collage of IAA Excavations.

the Old City. In this context, much effort has been invested in continued excavations in the City of David by R. Reich and E. Shukron. The results of their work at the Gihon Spring and the various elements of the water system, including the recently uncovered section of the Siloam Pool, form central threads of the IAA’s work in Jerusalem. The contributions of the activities conducted by the IAA and their significance for our knowledge regarding the archaeology of the city can also be expressed in numbers. Between 1967 and 1990, some 244 excavations were conducted in Jerusalem, while between 1990 and 2006, 455 salvage digs were undertaken (fig. 15). This is not the result of overly zealous activity but of a policy change concerning the intensity of inspection and the funding of archaeological activity, which now requires the developer to meet the costs of excavation. Because excavation is no longer limited to modest budgets earmarked by the government, sites can be fully excavated prior to development activities. While this change is viewed positively by the archaeological community, it has received strong public, political, and legal criticism, and the status of budgeting for salvage archaeology is a subject that is still requires resolution. A brief review of some of the more important excavation projects exemplifies this change (fig. 16). Following is a list of the more notable projects conducted by the IAA:

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•  the excavations of tombs, a bathhouse, an aqueduct, and the Ayyubid city wall in the area west of the Jaffa Gate into Mamilla—A. Maeir, R.Reich and E.Shukron •  the Third Wall, Greek and Armenian Byzantine Monasteries—A. Onn, D. Amit, N. Feig, V. Tzaferis •  farmhouses, monasteries, an abandoned Mamluk village, EBIV tombs, agricultural installations at Pisgat Zeʾev—R. Avner, J Seligman, J. Nadelman, Shukron •  a stoneware factory and monastery at Mount Scopus—D. Amit and J. Seligman •  a tomb of the Caiphas family and a huge burial complex at Akeldama—Z. Greenhut and G. Avni •  a Roman villa at Ein Yael—G. Edelstein •  Middle Bronze Age village at Malha—G. Edelstein and I. Milevski •  Middle Bronze Age village at Emek Rephaim— E. Eisenburg •  the octagonal church of the Kathisma—R. Avner (fig. 17) •  a Crusader fresco from the abbey of Gethsemane— J. Seligman •  the Bezietha neighborhood near Herod’s Gate—G. Avni and Y. Baruch •  a Roman villa and agricultural installations at Shu‘afat— A. Onn •  the Lower Aqueduct— Y. Billig •  Alona— S. Weksler •  kilns of the 10th Roman Legion at Binyanei Haʾuma— H. Goldfus and B. Arubas •  excavations within the Holy Sepulchre—G. Avni and J. Seligman •  the Mamluk bathhouse of Daraj el-Ain at Ohel Yizhak in the Old City— H. Barbe and T. Daʿadleh •  a second-century CE village along the Ramallah Road— D. Skalar and R. BarNathan •  tombs and a farmhouse at Tel el-Ful—S. Gibson, and so on. 8 With regard to the increase in fieldwork, a change is discernible in publication activity in the form of a significant increase in quantity and quality of the journal ʿAtiqot and the IAA monograph series, including many of the excavations noted just above (fig. 18). Nevertheless, many of the major excavations conducted by the IAA in Jerusalem since 1990 have yet to be published; it is hoped that this will be rectified in the coming years. A description of these activities would not be complete without a brief reference to the work conducted on the Temple Mount, especially with regard to construction work (Avni and Seligman 2001: 27–29). Initially, the good, informal contacts between the IAA and the professional staff of the Waqf were maintained. During the course of meetings in the early 1990s the Waqf staff gave IAA representatives advance notice of planned activities, such as extensive repairs to the Dome of the Rock and the preparations of the underground vaults in “Solomon’s Stables” for visitors and worshipers. The IAA representatives, for their part, showed the Waqf 8.  These excavations are mostly published in preliminary form in Hadashot Archaeologiyot and as final reports in ʿAtiqot and can all be found through the on-line library search of the IAA (http:// libantiquities.exlibris.co.il/F).

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Fig. 17.  The Cathisma Church during excavation.

staff their plans for excavation south of the Temple Mount and for developing the area for tourism. The situation changed drastically in the autumn of 1996, with the active entry of the radical Islamic movement of northern Israel into development projects and work to prepare “Solomon’s Stable” for worship. Their operations, many in violation of accepted conservation practice for the treatment of historical monuments, were often behind the back of the professional staff of the Waqf, who had in fact been barred at some points from entry to the site of work. During these years, the IAA’s ability to inspect the site and to conduct informal discussion with the Waqf was severely curtailed. From 1998 to 2000, further work was carried out in the ancient underground passages and vaults beneath the southern part of the Temple Mount. Those activities reached their zenith toward the end of 1999, when a monumental staircase and entrance was excavated leading down into “Solomon’s Stables.” During the process, a tremendous pit was dug with heavy mechanical machinery without any archaeological supervision, causing major irrevocable changes to the site. This act completely contravened internationally recognized conservation standards. Since

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Fig. 18.  Excavations and Surveys in Israel.

Jon Seligman 2000, direct contact between the Waqf and IAA has been very limited. Reports on the events occurring inside the complex are communicated to the IAA by the police, who in turn are advised on matters of conservation and excavation by the IAA. The work of the IAA and the Israeli authorities has been the subject of considerable criticism, with some critics demanding a more active response. Over the last few years, great emphasis has been placed on archaeological planning activities, and in this context Jerusalem has taken center stage. The reactions of IDAM and the IAA with regard to planning and development have been responsive to proposed developments as a consequence of clause 29 of the Law of Antiquities, which states.

A person shall not carry out, or allow to be carried out, any of the following on an antiquity site, save with the written approval of the Director and in accordance with the conditions thereof—building, paving, the erection of installations, quarrying, mining, drilling, flooding, the clearing away of stones, ploughing, planting, or interment, the dumping of earth, manure, waste or refuse, including the dumping thereof on adjoining property, any alteration, repair or addition to an antiquity located on the site etc. etc. and any other operation designated by the Director in respect of a particular site.

Surprisingly, in spite of this all-encompassing, even draconian law, this clause often places the IAA in a defensive position, because the statutory consultation is frequently applied late in the planning process. Modification of a finalized plan is more difficult than influencing its creation. It was decided, in keeping with the world-wide change in the fields of archaeological management, that a pro-active approach should be adopted instead. This coincided with the formulation of a series of master plans for the Jerusalem region and the city itself. Rather than being outside the planning process, the IAA would now be apart of it, integrating archaeology into the planning process. For the Jerusalem City Master Plan, 120 “special sites” located outside the city walls were included in the main plan for full integration within the city. The plan also formulated a policy for the protection of the visual basin surrounding the Old City and set the principles upon which a master plan for the Old City could be created. After the initial enthusiasm for the Old City after the Six Day War, the state lost interest and many areas of the Old City were neglected, with minimal services and municipal control. IDAM had not been active in aspects concerning the preservation of the historic city and concentrated on archaeology per se. This attitude changed during the 1990s when the IAA took part in strategic planning, initially

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limited to the Old City. To date, two out of three phases have been completed, with a plan now awaiting approval by the District Planning Commission. As part of the process, the IAA has set up a field office in the Old City, staffed by an archaeologist, a conservator, and an architect, with the goal of working on the complex physical problems within the Old City in conjunction with the municipality’s planning department. It will be the responsibility of the IAA to ensure that archaeological and conservation work in the Old City are part of a partnership with the residents in the future.

Conclusion How do we envision future work in Jerusalem––that is, as long as the political situation remains unchanged? The IAA should be constantly involved in and concerned about improving the quality of excavation and in ensuring the publication of all finds. Over the past 20 years, the IAA has acquired a virtual monopoly over archaeological activities within the city, excavating 455 of 521 sites since its inception. This unbalanced and unhealthy situation has to change. Other Israeli and foreign institutions, as well as the Jerusalem-based schools of archaeology should once again become more involved. Unfortunately, no Palestinians have excavated in Jerusalem since Hussein and Baramki during Mandatory times, with the notable exception of Yusuf Natsheh’s (2001) significant documentation of Ottoman monuments in the Old City. It is important to include all inhabitants of the city in the exploration of its antiquities. Equally important to current research and excavation is the formulation of a policy regarding the cultural legacy we will leave to future generations. The more than 1,200 excavations over a period of 150 years within such a small area suggest that, soon, all remaining heritage may be exhausted. One has to make a deliberate choice not only about what to explore now but also what to leave to future generations who will hopefully employ less destructive techniques. Furthermore, the IAA must move more activity into the field of preservation of the built heritage of Jerusalem, both as clearly defined by the limits of the Law of Antiquities in and around the Old City but also beyond that in the myriad neighborhoods of the eternal city.

References Ashbee, C. R. 1921 Jerusalem 1918–20: Being the Records of the Pro-Jerusalem Council during the Period of the British Military Administration. London: Murray. Amiran, R. 1951 Short Report on the Excavations at Kh. Ras el-ʿAlawi (near Jerusalem). Bulletin of the Department of Antiquities of the State of Israel 3: 43–44. [Hebrew] 1958 The Tumuli West of Jerusalem: Survey and Excavations, 1953. IEJ 8: 207– 27. Avi-Yonah, M. 1949 Excavations at Sheikh Bader. Bulletin of the Palestine Exploration Society 15/1–2: 19–24. Avigad, N. 1980 Discovering Jerusalem. Nashville: Nelson.

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Avni, G., and Seligman, J. 2001 The Temple Mount 1917–2001: Documentation, Research and Inspection of Antiquities. Jerusalem: Israel Antiquities Authority. Baramki, D. C. 1934 An Early Christian Basilica at ʿEin Hanniya. QDAP 3: 113–17. 1936 A small monastery and Chapel outside the ‘Third Wall.’ QDAP 5: 56–58. Rothschild, J.J. 1952 The tombs of Sanhedria. PEQ 84: 25–38. Ben-Dov, M. 1982 In the Shadow of the Temple: The Discovery of Ancient Jerusalem. New York: Harper and Row. Hamilton, R. W. 1940 Excavations against the North Wall of Jerusalem, 1937–38. QDAP 10: 1–54. 1949 The Structural History of the Aqsa Mosque: A Record of Archaeological Gleanings from the Repairs of 1938–1942. Jerusalem: Department of Antiquities of Palestine. Harvey, W. 1935 Church of the Holy Sepulchre, Jerusalem: Structural Survey. Final Report. Jerusalem. (No. publisher; this is a hand-typed report) Iliffe, J. H. 1934 Cemeteries and a ‘Monastery’ at the Y.M.C.A., Jerusalem: c. 3rd and 6th centuries a.d. QDAP 4: 70–80. 1937 The Abbey of St. Mary in the Valley of Jehoshaphat, Jerusalem. QDAP 8: 117–36. Johns, C. N. 1950 The Citadel, Jerusalem: A Summary of Work since 1934. QDAP 14: 121–90. Kletter, R. 2006 Just Past? the Making of Israeli Archaeology. London: Equinox. Kloner, A. 2000 Survey of Jerusalem. Vol. 1. Jerusalem: Israel Antiquities Authority. 2001 Survey of Jerusalem. Vol. 2. Jerusalem: Israel Antiquities Authority. 2003 Survey of Jerusalem. Vol. 3. Jerusalem: Israel Antiquities Authority. Kenyon, K. M. 1967 Jerusalem: Excavating 3000 years of History. London: Thames and Hudson. Natsheh, Y. 2000 The Architecture of Ottoman Jerusalem. In Ottoman Jerusalem: The Living City – 1517–1917, Volume 2, ed. S. Auld and R. Hillenbrand. London: The British School of Archaeology in Jerusalem by Altajir World of Islam Trust. Pinkerfeld, J. 1960 “David’s Tomb”: Notes on the History of the Building. Bulletin of the Louis Rabinowitz Fund for the Exploration of Ancient Synagogues 3: 41–43. Prag, K. 1995 Two Cemetery Plans for East Jerusalem. Pp. 249–52 in Excavations by K. M. Kenyon in Jerusalem 1961–1967, Vol. IV: The Iron Age Cave Deposits on the South-East Hill and Isolated Burials and Cemeteries Elsewhere, ed. I. Eshel and K. Prag. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Rachmani, L. Y. 1967 Jason’s Tomb. IEJ 17: 61–113. Richmond, E. T. 1924 The Dome of the Rock in Jerusalem: A Description of Its Structure and Decoration. Oxford: Clarendon. Tushingham, A. D. 1985 Excavations by K. M. Kenyon in Jerusalem 1961–1967, Vol. 1: Excavations in the Armenian Garden on the Western Hill. Toronto: Royal Ontario Museum.

Prehistory of the Jerusalem Area Ofer Bar-Yosef

Harvard University

A History of the Research The Holy Land and Jerusalem have attracted many visitors, among them only a few who were interested in the archaeology and prehistoric past of the country. The basic knowledge of these remote periods in France and England increased substantially during the 19th century, facilitating identification by travelers of stone artifacts made by people who lived in the pre-Biblical past. Individuals who had visited Jerusalem, Bethlehem, and the area around the holy places, as well as those who lived in local towns and monasteries, accumulated objects that were simply collected from the surface. These finds indicated that ancient hunter-gatherers and early farmers had passed through or settled in the hilly region. Before summarizing the current state of knowledge, let me briefly mention some of these early pioneers. Father J. Moretain, who lived in Beit Sahour, was the first to make surface collections of stone artifacts during the 1890s, mainly near Bethlehem (Buzy 1928). His finds included numerous axes, serrated blades, arrowheads, knives, and even a bone point. His discoveries were originally described in a lecture delivered a few years later to the International Congress for Anthropology and Prehistory in Paris. As the scientific approach began to determine the study of the past, using archaeological, geological, and paleontological methods, however, results continued to be shaped by biblical stories and figures. The most prominent among the 19th-century scholars was P. Germer-Durand, who is well-known for his historical discoveries. He collected thousands of stone artifacts around Jerusalem and especially at Baqaʾa-Rephaim, Zur-Bahr, and Artas (near Solomon’s Pools). His finds were stored for many years in the monastery of Notre Dame de France in Jerusalem. In January 1896, he summarized the pre­history of the Holy Land in a public lecture at the École biblique de St. Étienne. His conclusions were that the Mediterranean Sea had covered the Jordan Valley and parts of the coastal plain. Hence, prehistoric humans could only have inhabited the hilly areas and the Trans-Jordanian plateau. He identified the bifaces (handaxes) collected in Baqaʾa-Rephaim as the oldest known lithic industry, comparable to the socalled Chellean in France, which was later incorporated into the Abbevillean and today is known as the Acheulian complex (Goren-Inbar 1995). The geomorphological reconstruction that he proposed was based on the work of E. Hull, a geologist of the Survey of Western Palestine (Hull 1886). The discoveries in the Holy Land attracted the attention of G. de Mortillet, a senior French scholar, the first editor of Matériaux pour l’histoire primitive et naturelle 149

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de l’homme, a journal dedicated to prehistoric archaeology and ethnography. In his book (Mortillet 1883), he mentions the Moretain collection and cites Chellean artifacts (hand-axes) found near Beit-Sahour. The years before World War I witnessed a growing interest in the prehistory of the Holy Land. Numerous surface collections of prehistoric objects were accumulated during this period, such as that of H. E. Clark. Living in Jerusalem, he walked around the relatively small town of his day, picking up numerous bifaces, axes, sickle blades, and other lithic artifacts. The collection was studied by R. A. S. Macalister, who excavated in Jerusalem and Tel Gezer (Macalister 1912). The Clark collection was stored for many years in the YMCA in Jerusalem and was donated to the Hebrew University in the 1990s. Another enthusiastic amateur was M. C. Kellner (1921), professor at the Episcopal Theological College in Cambridge, Massachusetts. During 1913–14, he collected numerous lithic artifacts in Lebanon and in the vicinity of Jerusalem. Among his finds, he noted a biface from Mt. Scopus and pointed out once again the scatters of bifaces at Baqaʾa-Rephaim. This period also saw the publication of the first extensive summary of the prehistoric remains in the Holy Land. A volume entitled “Rephaim” (Ghosts) was published in German in 1917 by P. Karge at the University of Münster. The years between the two world wars represented the “Golden Age” of the study of the prehistory of the region. For Jerusalem and its vicinity, R. Neuville was among the most active individuals. He arrived in 1925 and excavated several caves and rock shelters in the Judean Desert (Neuville 1951). In conjunction with M. Stekelis, he explored Erq el-Ahmar in Wadi Khareitoun and, later, the Qafzeh cave (1933–35). Stekelis surveyed the area around Jerusalem, excavated BaqaʾaRephaim (Stekelis 1948) and completed the excavation of a paleontological site in Bethlehem, at the onset of World War II, an endeavor initiated by E. Gardner and D. Bate (Clark 1961). D. Garrod, who arrived in Jerusalem in 1928, excavated the Shukbah cave in Wadi en-Natuf but spent most of her field-work in the caves on Mount Carmel (etTabun, el-Wad, and es-Skhul). Based on her field-work, she was able to establish a sequence from the late Lower Paleolithic to the Upper Paleolithic and to define the famous Natufian culture (e.g., Garrod 1932; Garrod and Bate 1937). It was Neuville who in 1934 published the first scientific overview of the principle finds of the Paleolithic, Neolithic, and Chalcolithic periods in the country. He was also the one who from 1946 to 1947 introduced J. Perrot to the field of prehistory by assigning him to study the assemblages of the Terrace of El-Khiam (Perrot 1951). Perrot later excavated the Neolithic site of Abu Ghosh, near Jerusalem, where two additional areas were exposed by M. Lechevallier (1978) and by H. Khalaily and O. Marder (2003). Garrod’s The Stone Age of Mt. Carmel (Garrod and Bate 1937) and Neuville’s volume on the Paleolithic and Mesolithic (today called Epi-Palaeolithic) Judean Desert sites, including the first report on the Qafzeh cave (Neuville 1951), established the local cultural sequence from the Middle through the Upper Pleistocene. Most

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Fig. 1.  The excavation of the Bethlehem deposits (photo: M. Stekelis).

relevant for this paper is the work conducted in the Judean Desert, as well as the surveys and salvage excavations around Jerusalem. The excavations conducted at Abu-Ghosh and Motza, both PPNB sites, under the auspices of the Israel Antiquities Authority (Khalaily and Marder 2003) deserve particular attention. The following pages are a summary of the fragmentary prehistoric sequence of the area around Jerusalem (fig. 1) using the chronology presented in Table 1. Each of the traditionally defined periods will include a few comments that will place Jerusalem prehistory within the context of the Levant. At Bethlehem in 1937, while digging a well at the most elevated point of town (790 m asl), the local land-owner discovered several bones of ancient animals. Reporting the find to the Department of Antiquities in Jerusalem induced D. Bate and E. Gardner to excavate the site (fig. 2), which was viewed as a major karstic cavity, including clayey deposits mixed with Campagnian “brecciated” flint fragments and a faunal assemblage assigned to the Lower Pleistocene. A different interpretation was offered by Horowitz (2001), who saw the Bethlehem context as a fluvial accumulation representing a pre-Pleistocene drainage system. The identified species included Giraffa camelopardalis (giraffe), Leptobos sp. (a large wild cattle), Hipparion sp. (three-toed horse), Sus strozzi (wild boar), Dicerorhinus etruscus (an ancient rhinoceros), Homotherium sp. (a large carnivore), and Nyctereutes megamastoides (a small carnivore). Upon D. Clark’s (1961) study of the material, it turned out that none of the stone tools was prehistoric. Bones were not examined for cut-marks, so human presence at the site is still an unresolved issue.

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Ofer Bar-Yosef Table 1.  Chronology

Chalcolithic Pottery Neolithic Pre-Pottery Neolithic B Pre Pottery Neolithic A Epi-Paleolithic Upper Paleolithic Middle Paleolithic Lower Paleolithic

7,800/500–5,700/500 cal b.p. 8,400/200–7,800/500 cal b.p. 10,500–8,400/200 cal b.p. 11,700/500–10,500 cal b.p. 20,000–11,700/500 cal b.p. 47,000–20,000 cal b.p. 250,000–47,000 2.5 M–250,000

= 5,800/500–3,700 b.c. = 6,400–5800/500 b.c. = 8,500–5,800/500 b.c. = 9,700/500–8,500 b.c. = 18,000–9,700/500 b.c.

Note: Calibration of 14C dates from radiocarbon years to calendar years is done with one or two calibration curves (INTCAL98; CalPal—both accessible through the Web). Uncertainities in the beginning or end of later periods represent the difficulties in interpreting the available radiocarbon dates and their relationship to site stratigraphies. Approximate b.c. dates are calculated by substracting 2000 years from the cal b.p. dates.

Lower Palaeolithic The earliest periods of human prehistory were documented in Africa, where the first stone tool-makers were discovered. The first archaeological sequence recorded “out of Africa” was established at the site of Dmanisi in the Republic of Georgia (Gabunia et al. 2000). Several skulls of Homo regaster/erectus were found alongside a few post-cranial bones. A wealth of fauna and simple stone artifacts were also collected during a systematic excavation. These finds are more commonly classified today as “core and flake industry.” The more bulky pieces from which flakes were detached are referred to as “cores,” and the flakes often have sharp edges probably served for cutting and butchering. The second oldest site is ʿUbeidiya, located south of the Sea of Galilee (Bar-Yosef and Goren-Inbar 1993 and references therein; Tchernov 1996; Mallol 2006; Belmaker 2002). A series of systematic excavation between 1960 and 1998 exposed numerous bone-artifact-bearing layers, indicating human ephemeral occupations on the beach of Lake Ubeidiya, as well as in the hilly areas. The reconstructed palaeo-landscapes from some 1.5–1.2 million years ago demonstrate the changing conditions determined by the changing lake levels, leaving behind, among others, death assemblages of large mammals such as elephants, rhinos, and numerous hippos. Humans who essentially hunted and scavenged deer and horses made their stone tools from basalt, flint, and limestone. Among these tools, handaxes, roughly shaped from the above three raw materials, are present in small quantities. Limestone-shaped spheroids are common but the most-common objects were corechoppers and flakes. This industry, referred to as Early Acheulian, is not present in the hilly regions of the country. Only the later phases of the Acheulian complex, sometimes subdivided into “Middle” and Late or Upper Acheulian, are present in the Jerusalem area.

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Fig. 2.  Um Qatafa cave (photo: R. Neuville)

In the absence of secure radiometric dates, assemblages based on morphological and metrical attributes of bifaces are incorporated into each phase. When compared to the simple forms at ʿUbeidiya, the Upper Acheulian tools demonstrate additional refinements of their shapes achieved by the use of a soft hammer made, for example, of hard wood. Also noticeable is the increased degree of overall symmetry, which is possibly connected with the evolution of cognitive abilities (Wynn 2000). Though the kind of raw material used does not determine the final forms of the bifaces, flint is definitely of superior quality, compared to basalt and limestone. However, much depends on the knapper’s abilities as well as how and for what purposes the tools were used. In some cases, bifaces were used once and then discarded; in others, they were carried around and employed as a tool and a source for additional small sharp flakes. The excavations at the Um Qatafa cave (fig. 3) exposed layers (E and F) containing Acheulian bifaces overlying a deposit consisting mostly of cores and flakes. The bifaces from the earliest level are cruder and pointed, referred to as “Middle Acheulian,” while those of the upper level tend to be more symmetrical and rounded and resemble other Upper Acheulian assemblages in the country.

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Fig. 3.  Handaxes from Baqaʿa-Rephaim (redrawn from Arensburg and BarYosef 1967).

The Upper or Late Acheulian is characterized by a technological tendency to prioritize the use of soft-hammer percussions. Bifaces of cordiform and amygdaloid shapes often outnumber the ovates. The variability of metrical attributes among various sites reflects to some extent the quality and amount of raw material available in the vicinity of these localities (Sharon 2007). During the construction in 1874 of the railway in the German Colony, a Jerusalem neighborhood located in the Valley of Rephaim, numerous bifaces and flakes were collected by amateurs (fig. 4). In 1936, Stekelis conducted excavations in a deposit of gravels containing multiple bifaces and many other artifacts (Stekelis 1948). The gravels were primarily composed of Campagnian flint fragments and were also recorded in other areas of Jerusalem, such as the western slopes of Mount Scopus. In 1962, another excavation was conducted, resulting in a detailed, published analysis (Arensburg and Bar-Yosef 1967). It appears that the Acheulian bifaces and other tools accumulated on top of the hills were washed down the slope into the valley of Nahal Soreq (known as the Valley of Rephaim). It is likely that the original concentrations of artifacts constituted the remains of foragers’ camps. This suggestion is based on a recent salvage excavation (Barzilai et al. in press) that revealed concentrations of flakes and cores at Ramat Raḥel, as well as other unpublished observations near Mt. Scopus of similar finds. Apparently, the manufacturing technique resembles the one employed for the production of the flakes uncovered at Rephaim. Bifaces and flakes from the hills were removed by erosion during the

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Middle and early Upper Pleistocene, often causing the abrasion of the objects and and probably the disappearance of animal bones. As a result, the dating of these Acheulian collections is rather difficult. The Acheulo-Yabrudian, the latest entity of the Acheulian complex in the region is not present in the Jerusalem area. This absence could be partially the result of a cultural boundary identified on both sides of the Jordan Valley, beginning at the Yarkon River and ending south of the Azraq basin in the east. Most AcheuloYabrudian sites are located in the northern region, either in caves like Tabun, Hayonim and Zuttiyeh, Dederiyeh (in Syria), and in open-air locations such as at Hummal in the el-Kowm basin (Bar-Yosef 1998). The Amudian industry in Qesem cave can also be attributed to this complex (Barkai et al. 2005; Gopher et al. 2005).

Middle Paleolithic The study of the Levantine Middle Paleolithic benefited from the extensive stratigraphy based on excavations conducted at the Tabun cave, the new excavations at Kebara, Amud, Qafzeh, and Hayonim caves in Israel, at Tor Faraj and Tor Sabiha in Jordan, and at several sites in Lebanon and Syria (Bar-Yosef 1998; Shea 2003; Henry 1995; Bar-Yosef et al. 1992; Goren-Inbar 1990; Hovers 2006; Hovers et al. 1995; Hovers and Belfer-Cohen 2005; Vandermeersch 1981; Stiner 2005; Meignen et al. 2005; Mercier et al. 2007). The relative dating technique based on the study of faunal remains and in particular on assemblages of microvertebrates practiced until the early 1980s was replaced by radiometric dating, namely, Thermoluminescence (TL) and Electron Spin Resonance (ESR). MtDNA studies indicate that about 200,000–150,000 years ago modern humans began to move out of Africa. This migration occurred during the Middle Palaeolithic period, which lasted almost from ca. 250/200,000 to ca. 50,000 years ago (see Table 1). The first efforts to identify the cultures within this period were made by F. Bordes, who abandoned the label “Levalloiso-Mousterian,” a term that can still be found in some older publications. Bordes adopted the term “Mousterian” for the prehistoric cultures, while keeping the term “Levallois” as designating particular knapping techniques. The sequence of the Levantine lithic industries, following the main layers at the Tabun cave are now referred to as “Tabun D-type,” “C-type,” or B-type” or simply Early, Middle, and Late Mousterian. In this context, the contributions of Neuville’s excavations at Abu-Sif are considered as authoritative. Assemblages at the latter site represent the early Mousterian or the “Tabun D-Type.” This techno-typological entity is characterized by the production of elongated blanks sometimes defined as blades, pointed blanks, and when retouched known as Abu Sif points (fig. 5). The blanks were generally removed from unidirectional cores, sometimes with basal preparation. It has been suggested that this type of Mousterian should be called “Abu Sifian” (Bar-Yosef 1998). A similar assemblage was excavated in a nearby cave named Ghar (Gordon 1993). The assemblage of Sahba Cave was considered by Neuville (1951: 67) to be more evolved. Similar points obtained by using a slightly different knapping technique can be found in

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Fig. 4.  Mousterian tools from Abu Sif (redrawn after Neuville 1951).

the contexts of the Hummalian industry excavated at several sites in the el-Kowm Basin (northeast Syria), also resembling the Djrujulan in the Caucasus Mountains, located farther north (Meignen and Toushabrmashvili 2006). All these industries are dated to roughly 250,000–150/140,000 years ago and may represent a wave of migration archaic Homo sapiens. Those responsible for this industry were mobile foragers who exploited the available game in their immediate environment but never remained in the same place for long periods. Most of the hunted animals were fallow deer and gazelle (Stiner 2005). But in the Judean Desert, gazelle and ibex were more common (Vaufrey in Neuville 1951). As they kept moving, the caves that they occupied became habitations of barn owls and, as a result, the layers in locations such as Hayonim Cave are rich in microvertebrates, constituting the deteriorated pellets of these nocturnal predators. Moreover, comparisons between various Mousterian sites indicate that the producers of the Abu Sifian assemblages had no tendency to stay on site for a long time. This becomes apparent if we compare, for example, one cubic meter of the deposit in Hayonim Cave that accumulated over a period of some 10/15,000 years (based on TL dates; see Mercier at al. 2007), to one cubic meter that accumulated

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during the Late Mousterian over a period of some 3,000 years in Kebara Cave. The differences in their contents are striking. In Hayonim Cave, the number of flint pieces larger than 0.2 cm is about 270–300 per cu. m, whereas in the Kebara Cave, it is 1,200 pieces. As opposed to the sediments in Hayonim Cave, which are rich in microfaunal elements, the layers at Kebara Cave are poor in microfaunal elements, reflecting the nearly constant presence of humans at this site (Bar-Yosef 1998).

Upper Paleolithic The cultural transition from the Middle to the Upper Paleolithic in the Levant, also referred to as the Upper Paleolithic Revolution, is represented initially by the techno-typological shift of manufacturing stone tools, then by the appearance of marine shells as body decoration, and slightly later by the production of bone tools (for a fuller survey, see Bar-Yosef 2001; 2006). The technical and typological transition is best documented at Boker Tachtit in the Negev and at Ksar ʿAkil in the Lebanon Mountains by the presence of Emireh points and chamfered blades (fig. 6). This early phase is not represented at Erq el-Ahmar, a rock shelter in Wadi Kha­rei­ toun. The second phase is referred to as Early Ahmarian, after the name of the site, and dates to ca. 45/44,000–36/34, 000 calibrated b.p. (Gilead 1991; Goring-Morris and Belfer-Cohen 2003). The early assemblages still carry some Late Mousterian technical knapping attributes, such as facetted platforms on the blades. However, the retouched pieces are backed blades, end scrapers, and burins, the typical Upper Paleolithic tools (fig. 6). The Late Ahmarian (approximately 30,000–23,000 years ago) is better known from the Terrace of el-Khiam, located downstream in the same wadi, on the edge of the Judean Desert, characterized by its arid soils. The site was excavated twice; first by Neuville and later by J. Echegaray (1964, 1966). Its lower levels contain artifacts characteristic of the Atlitian industry. This entity is poorly dated, but at Ksar Akil (Lebanon) it precedes an early Epi-Paleolithic microlithic industry and thus can be dated to some 25,000–22,000 years ago. The assemblage (similar ones were found in Wadi Fazael, Nahal Ein Gev I, and Nahal Oren) is characterized by proliferation of burins mostly made on truncated and retouched flakes and rarely blades (fig. 6). Upper Paleolithic humans were modern (Homo sapiens) and are documented by a burial at Ksar Akil (within the Early Ahmarian) and another flexed and wellpreserved one at Nahal Ein Gev I (Bergman and Stringer 1989; Arensburg 1977). These groups of foragers hunted the common species in the areas where they stayed. In the Jerusalem region, these could have been fallow deer, roe deer, wild boar, and gazelle on the more steppe-like margins. As mentioned above, the Upper Paleolithic was subdivided artificially in the days when radiocarbon chronology was not available. At a time, the small tools––the microliths––were considered markers of the late phase of the Upper Paleolithic. However, microliths––retouched small bladelets––appear in archaeological contexts dating to some 30,000 years ago. Hence, some scholars would like to place the beginning of the next period, called the Epi-Palaeolithic, at ca. 22/21,000 cal b.p., represented by the site of Ohalo (Nadel 2003), where microliths were found.

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Fig. 5.  Schematic drawings of Upper Paleolithic tool types. Similar objects were found in Erq et Ahmar and the lower layers at el-Khiam Terrace.

Others, including the present author, prefer to identify the beginning of the EpiPaleolithic with shaped microliths, often characterized by a definite form such as the obliquely truncated backed bladelet (see fig. 7), also called a Kebara point.

Epi-Paleolithic The Epi-Paleolithic tool kits are characterized by the production of numerous bladelets, many of which were shaped to various forms by several kinds of retouch, classified as microliths and geometric microliths (fig. 7). Certain groups of these small tools were also shaped from small flakes or blades. Although the emergence of bladelet production occurred supposedly some time during the Upper Paleolithic the microliths are generally considered to be a hallmark of a period that lasted from ca. 22/21,000 through 11,700/500 cal b.p. For convenience, the Epi-Paleolithic period is also subdivided into three major phases (Early, Middle, and Late). The famous Natufian culture dates to the Late Epi-Paleolithic and will be dealt with in the next section. The archaeological record of the Epi-Paleolithic demonstrates an increasing complexity of settlement systems, technology, subsistence proclivities, social organization, and artistic representations. Material evidence was either collected or comes from small area excavations. Many of the sites are located in the arid areas of the Negev, Sinai, and southern Jordan (e.g., Bar-Yosef 1990; Goring-Morris 1995; Goring-Morris and Belfer-Cohen 1997; Byrd 2005). The Kebaran complex (Early Epi-Paleolithic) includes several variable groups of assemblages on both sides of the Jordan Valley but would benefit greatly from information derived from additional excavations and radiocarbon dates. The bearers

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of these microlithic industries inhabited areas that had sufficient precipitation and maintained the Mediterranean woodland during the LGM and avoided desert areas except for oases (Goring-Morris 1995; Garrard 1998; Garrard et al. 1994). They generally had a base camp and moved around while foraging. During the winter, they camped in the Jordan Valley and the coastal plain and exploited the highlands during the summer. Most of the evidence regarding their diet is limited to the prey they hunted. The hunted animals generally reflect the mammals common within the surrounding region of each site (e.g., Bar-Oz 2004). Their consuming of plant food is testified by the presence of mortars and pestles at every major site. The reconstructed annual cycle or the estimated size of the Kebaran territories varies from north to south and west to east. While the western territories, exploiting the wider coastal plain (due to a lower level of the Mediterranean Sea to ca. –130 m), extended into the hilly areas, reflect the different locations of winter and summer camps. The eastern groups were less numerous, because most of the Jordan Valley was covered by the salty Lisan Lake, and they were able to camp in the valley on the alluvial fans of the wadis descending from the Judean and Samarian hills. The distribution of their food resources and relations with groups exploiting the Jordanian plateau improved when the lake regressed from –180 below sea level to –280 m (a new northern shoreline of Lisan Lake in the Fazael area), and finally to a level closer to the historical Dead Sea. The movements of Epi-Plaleolithic foragers from the coastal plain into the hills is attested by the presence of typical Kebaran microliths found among the lowermost layers of recent salvage excavations in the Jerusalem region (Khalaily and Marder 2003). The Middle Epi-Paleolithic period is characterized by the makers of the Geometric Kebaran complex who enjoyed the climatic improvement as both temperature and the amount of annual precipitation increased, enabling them to expand their territories into the desert areas from the el-Kowm Basin in northeast Syria to Wadi Feiran in southern Sinai. The Geometric Kebaran foragers maintained similar hunting and gathering strategies to those employed by their Kebaran forefathers. Notable among the major discoveries is the cemetery of ʿUyun-al-Hammam in Wadi Ziglab ( Jordan) where several burials were created on site once the inhabitants had moved away (Maher et al. 2001). The Geometric Kebaran assemblages at Wadi Khareitoun were first discovered on the terrace of el-Khiam. Here, most layers slope down toward the wadi, and as a result, the assemblages were subject to variable amounts of mixing. The site was first tested by R. Neuville, and the lithics were studied by J. Perrot. More extensive excavations were conducted at a later point by Echegaray (1964, 1966). Layers 9–8 contain a reasonable collection of trapezes-rectangles, characteristic of this industry (fig. 7).

The Natufian Culture The Natufian Culture (ca. 14,500–11,600 cal b.p.) is certainly among the more spectacular ones among all prehistoric cultures in the country. Originally defined by Garrod following her excavations at the Shuqbah cave, the remains of this complex

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Fig. 6.  selection of typical Natufian tools (from microliths to ground stone tools such as mortars).

society of foragers were uncovered in hamlets where pit houses with built-up walls served as dwellings, such as at Eynan (Ain Mallaha), on the Hayonim Terrace, at el-Wad, Wadi Hammeh 27 in Jordan, and finally at numerous smaller sites. A microlithic industry with lunates shaped by bifacial (Helwan) retouch in the Early Natufian and by abrupt retouch in the Late Natufian, as well sickle blades, mortars and pestles, rich bone and antler tool-kits, and mobile art objects reflect the daily activities of these people (fig. 8). Hunting of fallow deer, roe deer, gazelle, hare, the trapping of birds, fishing, and collecting tortoises and seashells and exchanging them with other communities constituted part of their socioeconomic activities (Henry 1989; Bar-Yosef 2002; Belfer-Cohen 1991,1995; Belfer-Cohen and Bar-Yosef 2000; Belfer-Cohen and Hovers 2005; Boyd 2004; Munro 2004; Valla 1995, 1998, 1999, 2004; Valla et al. 2001). A ceremonial building exposed at Eynan and a series of special rooms inside the Hayonim cave are indications of particular social activities, as yet poorly understood. Natufian remains were found at Erq el-Ahmar, at Ain Sakhri in Wadi Khareitoun, Umm ez-Zouweitna in Wadi Djaher (Nahal Tekoa), and at the Umm Qala Cave, all attributed to the Early Natufian. On the el-Khiam Terrace, a Late Natufian deposit was excavated. The finds at Erq el-Ahmar recall the contents of a residential site, with lunates, sickle blades, grinding stones, and the like. One burial pit partially covered by a limestone slab contained several skulls (Neuville 1951). Similar slabs are found in association with Natufian graves at other sites, such as at Hayonim.

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Two art objects were found among the collection of a Carmelite monastery in Bethlehem and were attributed, by the Bedouin who regularly clean the sites, to Ain Sakhri and Umm ez-Zouwetina. A small limestone figurine from Ain Sakhri represents a couple engaged in intercourse. The figurine from Umm ez-Zouwetina was interpreted as a kneeling gazelle or some other ungulate. The subject of the latter figurine fits into the realm of other artistic expressions of the Natufian culture—representing animals and various geometric and non-geometric patterns (e.g., Noy 1991; Boyd and Cook 1993; Marshack 1997; Bar-Yosef and Belfer-Cohen 1998, 1999; Weinstein-Evron and Belfer-Cohen 2003). Human representations constitute a rare subject in the context of the Natufian culture. In contrast, they are always present in Neolithic deposits. Given the ambiguous circumstances of the discovery of this particular figurine, one may suspect that it derives from a later period.

The Neolithic Period The Neolithic period in the Levant represents a phase during which intentional cultivation of plants and corralling of animals gradually replaced the foragers’ subsistence system based on plant food-gathering and hunting. However, even with the advent of the cultivation and eventual domestication of plants such as cereals, legumes, flax, and figs, the corralling and ensuing domestication of goat, sheep, cattle, and pigs and gathering plants and hunting wild species continued (Simmons 2007 and references therein). Large Neolithic sites are known from the Euphrates and Jordan valleys, the Transjordanian plateau, as well the western hills and the coastal plain. By using a relative chronological framework, Kenyon (1957) sub­ divided the period into Pre-Pottery Neolithic A and B. These latter are commonly used terms, often abbreviated as PPNA and PPNB. The calibrated radiocarbon chronology presented in Table 1 indicates that the PPNA lasted roughly 1,000–1,200 years and the PPNB ca. 2,100–2,300 years. There exist many economic and cultural differences between the two periods, evidently the results of changes that took place over the course of several millennia. The PPNA social structure is represented by the remains of rounded buildings found in hamlets and villages, as well as the presence of special architectural features such as the tower at Jericho, the “kiva-type” semi-subterranean buildings like those at Mureybet and Jerf el-Ahmar (Stordeur and Abbès 2002; Bar-Yosef 1986; Naveh 2003; Ronen and Adler 2001; Goring-Morris 2005). During the PPNB period in the territories of Neolithic tribes, several villages were equipped with a public ceremonial center as well as a local shrine. Special commodities such as obsidian were brought in from greater distances, based on exchange networks that had already been established during the PPNA. The interaction sphere included vast areas (the Levant, Anatolia, the northern Mesopotamian plains). The colonization of islands such as Cyprus and Crete enlarged the world-view of particular groups. Surveys conducted during the late 19th and first half of the 20th centuries around Jerusalem, as summarized by Stekelis (1966), indicate the presence of two kinds of

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Fig. 7.  PPNA axes from Artas, Wadi Tahouneh.

sites: villages in well-watered valleys (like Wadi Tahouneh and Nahal Soreq) and smaller sites, with axes (fig. 9) and sickle blades but no arrowheads, in the hilly areas. These smaller sites may have simply served as ephemeral camps. The combination of axes-adzes and sickle blades may reflect the felling of trees and use of wood as well as harvesting activities in patches away from the villages. The entire repertoire of daily Neolithic flint tool-kits as well as a set of grinding stones were recovered from excavated sites such as at Ain Darat (PPNA), Motza (PPNB), and the el-Khiam Terrace, and also from surface collections such as at Wadi Tahouneh (the site of Artas). It should be noted that in the latter site intrusive Chalcolithic adzes were also found (fig. 10), but the dominant types of axes characterize what was once called “Tahounian” and is now referred to as a PPNB. Hence, the

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Fig. 8.  Chalcolithic adzes from Artas, Wadi Tahouneh.

revolutionary socioeconomic changes are reflected in the archaeological record in the Jerusalem area (e.g., Khalaily et al. 2007; Gopher 1996; Echegaray 1966). Among the surface finds published by an early explorer is a stone mask found in the village of Er-Ram north of Jerusalem (Chaplim1890), which Gophna and associates (1986) brought to the attention of archaeologists. It seems to resemble stone masks that appeared mainly on the antiquities markets in Israel between the 1950s and 1980s. One of them is at the Museum of the Holy Land in Paris (Perrot 1978). An additional mask is attributed to Khirbet Duma, a PPNB site located in the Hebron area. In 1983, during the excavations at the Nahal Hemar Cave, a painted stone mask was found in a well-dated PPNB context (Bar-Yosef and Alon 1988; Noy 1999). The Er-Ram mask demonstrates a superficial resemblance to the other masks but differs in many details such as the non-hollowed eyes and the mouth, and thus seems to be of a later age (Noy 1999). The excavation of PPNB Motza produced a wealth of evidence for an elaborate settlement, including plastered floors, a series of human burials, and special caches like the one with about 58 blades detached from similar naviform cores, suggesting a skilled knapper. Interestingly, the animal bones are mostly gazelle, indicating that hunting continued during the late 9th millennium b.c.e. (Sapir-Hen et al. 2008). This observation is in accordance with current understanding, that the process of corralling goat, sheep, cattle, and pigs was initiated in the northern Levant some 10,500 years ago and the domesticated species reached the southern Levant later. The end of the PPNB, marked by a climatic crisis around 6,400–6,200 b.c.e., led to the establishment of large Pottery Neolithic villages near permanent water sources such as the settlement of Shaʿar Hagolan. During the same period, a major segment of the local population dispersed in small independent farmsteads. Because the technology of digging wells was known since the PPNB, we may expect that, in

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relatively wide wadi beds such as at Motza, similar installations to the one uncovered at Shaʿar ha-Golan (Garfinkel et al. 2006) were dug. However, our current knowledge is rather limited. The Pottery Neolithic period—as identified by us, the archaeologists—was chronologically shorter than the previous periods and is still less known. Although pottery first appeared during late PPNB contexts in the northern Levant, including “White Ware,” clay pots became common only with the Yarmukian and Lodian cultures (Garfinkel 1993). The increasing cultural variability, expressed in the material remains of this period, continue to characterize the following millennia.

Summary For the purpose of providing the reader with a more general overview of the prehistoric Jerusalem area, I have incorporated sites within a 30–40 km radius around the modern city. I also tried to place the fragmentary sequence that spans about 1.5 million years into the more general context of the Levant. Needless to say, such a summary suffers from the shortcomings of available data sets from the Jerusalem area as well as the limitations imposed by the sprawling building activities in the last 60 to 70 years. However, this limited region provides the same information obtained from other parts of the country and indicates that both the surveys and the excavations around and inside Jerusalem conform to the general data sets of the prehistoric Levant. The Acheulian sequence and Mousterian sites represent the major portion of prehistoric time. The limited information from the early part of the Upper Paleolithic period indicates the same degree of paucity as other areas in the Levant. The rare Epi-Paleolithic contexts only reflect the presence of mobile foragers whose main base camps were in the lowlands. The current small samples of microlithic tools were recovered from deep alluvial deposits. The difficulty of identifying microliths without careful dry-sieving, and especially water-sieving, also contributes to the paucity of such small tools. There are as yet few remains from the PPNA period and relatively more from the time of the PPNB, including the important sites of Motza and Abu-Ghosh. This observation is in accordance with the overall socioeconomic changes that occurred between the 9th and the 7th millennia b.c.e., a period that witnessed the development of farming and herding. The remains of these activities are well-documented in the hilly area of the Jerusalem landscape.

Acknowledgments I would like to thank Gideon Avni and Katharina Galor for inviting me to take part in the meeting on Jerusalem, the city where I was born and became an archaeologist, at Brown University and their patience with the submission of this paper. I am indebted to Katharina Galor, who skillfully edited this manuscript. Needless to say, all mistakes and shortcomings of this summary are mine.

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and Paleoclimates of the Eastern Mediterranean, ed. O. Bar-Yosef and R. Kra. Tucson, Arizona: Radiocarbon. Garrod, D. A. E. 1932 A New Mesolithic Industry: The Natufian of Palestine. Journal of the Royal Anthropological Institute 62: 257–70. Garrod, D. A. E., and Bate, D. M. 1937 The Stone Age of Mount Carmel. Vol. 1. Oxford: Clarendon. Gilead, D. 1970 Handaxe Industries in Israel and the Near East. World Archaeology 2: 1–11. Gilead, I. 1991 The Upper Paleolithic in the Levant. Journal of World Prehistory 5/2: 105–54. Gopher, A. 1995 Early Pottery-Bearing Groups in Israel—The Pottery Neolithic Period.” Pp. 205–21 in The Archaeology of Society in the Hold Land, ed. T. Levy. London: Leicester University Press. 1996 A Preliminary Report on the Flints of Ain Darat: A PPNA Site in the Judean Desert. Pp. 443–52 in vol. 3 of Neolithic Chipped Stone Industries of the Fertile Crescent, and Their Contemporaries in Adjacent Regions, ed. S. K. Kozlowski and H. G. K. Gebel. Studies in Early Near Eastern Production, Subsistence and Environment 3. Berlin: Ex Oriente. Gopher, A., et al. 2005 Qesem Cave: An Amudian Site in Central Israel. Mitkufat Haeven: Journal of the Israel Prehistoric Society 35: 69–92. Gordon, D. 1993 Mousterian Tool Selection, Reduction, and Discard at Ghar, Israel. Journal of Field Archaeology 20: 205–18. Gophna, R., Lev-Yadun, S., and Liphshitz, N. 1986 A Forgotten Stone Mask from Er-Ram in the Land of Benyamin. Qadmonit 19: 75–76. [Hebrew] Goren-Inbar, N. 1995 The Lower Paleolithic of Israel.” Pp. 93–109 in The Archaeology of Society in the Holy Land, ed. T. Levy. London: Leicester University Press. Goring-Morris, A. N. 1995 Complex Hunter-Gatherers at the End of the Palaeolithic (20,000-10,000 B.P.). Pp. 141–68 in The Archaeology of Society in the Holy Land, ed. T. E. Levy. London: Leicester University Press. 2005 Life, Death and the Emergence of Differential Status in the Near Eastern Neolithic: Evidence from Kfar HaHoresh, Lower Galilee, Israel. Pp. 89–105 in Archaeological Perspectives on the Transmission and Transformation of Culture in the Eastern Mediterranean, ed. J. Clark. Oxford: Council for British Research in the Levant and Oxbow Books. Goring-Morris, A. N., and Belfer-Cohen, A., eds. 1997 The Articulation of Cultural Processes and Late Quaternary Environmental Changes in Cisjordan. Paleorient 23/2: 71–93. 2003a More than Meets the Eye: Studies on Upper Palaeolithic Diversity in the Near East. Oxford: Oxbow Books. 2003b Structures and Dwellings in the Upper and Epi-Palaeolithic (ca 42–10k BP) Levant: Profane and symbolic uses. Pp. 65–81 in Perceived Landscapes and Built Environments: The Cultural Geography of Late Paleolithic Eurasia, ed. O. Soffer, S. A. Vasil’ev, and J. Kozlowski. B.A.R. International Series 1122. Oxford: Archaeopress. Goren-Inbar, N. 1990 Quneitra: A Mousterian Site on the Golan Heights. Qedem: Monographs of the Institute of Archaeology, 31. Jerusalem: Hebrew University.

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Henry, D. O. 1995 Prehistoric Cultural Ecology and Evolution. New York: Plenum. Horowitz, A. 2001 The Jordan Rift Valley. Lisse, PA: A. A. Balkema. Hovers, E. 2006 Neandertals and Modern Humans in the Middle Paleolithic of the Levant: What Kind of Interaction? Pp. 65–86 in When Neanderthals and Modern Humans Met, ed. N. J. Conard. Rottenburg: Tübingen Publications, Kerns Verlag. Hovers, E., and Belfer-Cohen, A. 2005 “Now You See it, Now You Don’t”: Modern Human Behavior in the Middle Paleolithic,” Pp. 295–304 in Transitions Before The Transition: Evolution and Stability in the Middle Paleolithic and Middle Stone Age, ed. E. Hovers and S. L. Kuhn. New York: Springer. Hovers, E.; Rak, Y.; Lavi R.; and Kimbel, W. H. 1995 Hominid Remains from Amud Cave in the Context of the Levantine Middle Paleolithic. Paleorient 21/2: 47–61. Hull, E. 1986 Memoir on the Geology and Geography of Arabia Petreae, Palestine and Adjoining Districts. London: Richard Bentley and Sons. Karge, P. 1917 Rephaim: Die vorgeschichtliche kulter Palästinas und Phoniziens. Collectanea Hierosolymitana, Veröffentlichungen der Wissenschaftlichen Station der Görresgesellschaft in Jerusalem, Band I. Paderborn: Ferdinand Schöningh. Khalaily, H., et al. 2007 Motza: An Early Pre-Pottery Neolithic Site West of Jerusalem, Israel: A Preliminary report. Paleorient 32: 5–37. Khalaily, H., and Marder, O. 2003 The Neolithic Site of Abu Ghosh: The 1995 Excavations. Israel Antiquities Authority Reports 19. Jerusalem: Israel Antiquities Authority. Maher, L., et al. 2001 Middle Epipalaeolithic Sites in Wadi Ziqlab, Northern Jordan. Paleorient 27/1: 5–19. Mallol, C. 2006 What’s in a Beach? Soil Micromorphology of Sediments from the Lower Paleolithic Site of ʿUbeidiya, Israel. Journal of Human Evolution 51: 185–206. Meignen, L., and N. Tushabramishvili. 2006 Paléolithique Moyen laminaire sur les flancs sud du Caucase: productions lithiques et fonctionnement du site de Djruchula (Georgie). Paleorient 32: 81–104. Meignen, L., et al. 2006 Middle Paleolithic Settlement Patterns in the Levant. Pp. 149–70 in Transitions before the Transition: Evolution and Stability in the Middle Paleolithic and Middle Stone Age, ed. E. Hovers and S. L. Kuhn. New York: Springer. Mortillet, G. de 1883 Préhistorique antiquité de l’homme Paris: C. Reinwald. Munro, N. D. 2004 Zooarchaeological Measures of Hunting Pressure and Occupation Intensity in the Natufian. Current Anthropology 45(Supplement): S5–S33. Nadel, D., 2003 The Ohalo II Flint Assemblage and the Beginning of the Epipalaeolithic in the Jordan Valley.” Pp. 216–29 in More than Meets the Eye: Studies on Upper Palaeolithic Diversity in the Near East, ed. A. Belfer-Cohen and A. N. Goring-Morris. Oxford: Oxbow Books.

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Naveh, D. 2003 PPNA Jericho: A Socio-political Perspective. Cambridge Archaeological Journal 13/1: 83–96. Neuville, R. 1934 Le préhistoire de Palestine. Revue Biblique 43: 237–59. 1951 Le Paléolithique et le Mésolithique de Désert de Judée. Archives de L’Institut de Paléontologie Humaine Mémoire 24. Paris: Masson et Cie. Noy, T. 1999 The Human Figure in Prehistoric Art in the Land of Israel. Jerusalem: The Israel Museum, Jerusalem. [Hebrew] Perrot, J. 1951 La terrasse d’ el-Khiam. Pp. 134–78 in Le Paléolithique et le Mésolithique de Désert de Judée, ed. R. Neuville. Archives de l’Institut de Paléontologie Humaine, Mémoire 24. Paris: Masson. 1952 Le Neolithique d’Abou Gosh. Syria 29: 119–45. 1978 Syrie-Palestine. Geneva: Nagel. Ronen, A., and Adler, D. 2001 The Walls of Jericho Were Magical. Archaeology, Ethnology, and Anthropology of Eurasia 2/6: 97–103. Sapir-Hen, L., et al. 2009 Gazelle Exploitation in the Early Neolithic Site of Motz, Israel: The Last Gazelle Hunters in the Southern Levant. Journal of Archaeological Science 36: 1538–46. Sharon, G. 2007 Acheulian Large Flake Industries: Technology, Chronology and Significance. BAR International Series 1701. Oxford: Archaeopress. Shea, J. J. 2003 The Middle Paleolithic of the East Mediterranean Levant. Journal of World Prehistory 17/4: 313–94. Simmons, A. H. 2007 The Neolithic Revolution in the Near East. Tuscon: University of Arizona Press. Stekelis, M. 1956a Sefer Yerushalaym. [Hebrew] 1956b Thirty Years of Research into the Prehistory of Eretz-Israel and the Neighbouring countries. Eretz Israel 4: 24–33. [Hebrew] Stekelis, M. 1948 Rephaim-Baqʿa. A Plaeolithic Station in the Vicinity of Jerusalem. Journal of the Palestine Oriental Society 21: 80–97. Stiner, M. C. 2005 The Faunas of Hayonim Cave, Israel: A 200,000-Year Record of Paleolithic Diet, Demography and Society. Cambridge, Mass: Peabody Museum of Archaeology and Ethnology, Harvard University. Stordeur, D., and Abbès, F. 2002 Du PPNA au PPNB: Mise en Lumiere d’une Phase de Transition a Jerf el-Ahmar (Syrie). Bulletin de la Societe Prehistorique Francaise 99/3: 563–95. Tchernov, E. 1996 Rodent Faunas, Chronostratigraphy and Paleobiogeography of the Southern Levant during the Quaternary. Pp. 513–30 in Neogene and Quaternary Mammals of the Palaearctic: Papers in Mammal Palaeontology Honoring Kazimierz Kowalski (Acta Zoologica Cracoviensia vol. 39), ed. A. Nadachowski and L. Werdelin. Valla, F. R. 1995 The First Settled Societies: Natufian (12,500-10,200 BP). Pp. 169–89 in The Archaeology of Society in the Holy Land, ed. T. E. Levy. London: Leicester University Press.

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1998 Natufian Seasonality: A Guess. Pp. 93–108 in Seasonality and Sedentism: Archaeological Perspectives from Old and New World Sites, ed. T. R. Rocek and O. Bar-Yosef. Peabody Museum Bulletin 6. Cambridge, MA: Peabody Museum of Archaeology and Ethnology. 1999 The Natufian: A Coherent Thought? Pp. 224–41 in Dorothy Garrod and the Progress of the Palaeolithic, ed. W. Davies and R. Charles. Oxford: Oxbow Books. 2004 Natufian Behavior in the Hula Basin: The Quesiton of Territoriality. Pp. 207–20 in Human Paleoecology in the Levantine Corridor, ed. N. Goren-Inbar and J. D. Speth. Oxford: Oxbow Books. Valla, F. R., et al. 2001 Le Natoufien Final de Mallaha (Eynan), Deuxieme Rapport Preliminaire: Les Fouilles de 1998 et 1999. Mitekufat Haeven ( Journal of the Israel Prehistoric Society) 31: 43–184. Vandermeersch, B. 1989 The Evolution of Modern Humans: Recent Evidence from Southwest Asia. Pp. 155– 64 in The Human Revolution, ed. P. Mellars and C. Stringer. Edinburgh: Edinburgh University Press. Weinstein-Evron, M., and Belfer-Cohen, A. 1993 Natufian Figurines from the New Excavations of the el-Wad Cave, Mt. Carmel, Israel. Rock Art Research 10/2: 102–6. Wynn, T. 2000 Symmetry and the Evolution of the Modular Linguistic Mind. Pp. 113–39 in Evolution and the Human Mind, ed. P. Carruthers and A. Chamberlain. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press.

The Archaeology of Early Jerusalem: From the Late Proto-Historic Periods (ca. 5th Millennium) to the End of the Late Bronze Age (ca. 1200 b.c.e.) Aren M. Maeir Bar-Ilan University

Introduction This essay is a brief survey of the archaeological sequence of the city of Jerusalem between the end of the Prehistoric (Neolithic) period until the end of the Late Bronze Age (ca. 1200 b.c.e), a time-span of roughly 4,000 years (for a more detailed survey, see Maeir 2000 [including additional references], with some updates in Cahill 2003). Not all periods are well-represented from an archaeological point of view, in part due to the intensity of the activity in the city during later periods. Nevertheless, these finds offer us an opportunity to compose a cautious understanding of the early history of this fascinating city. This survey will include archaeological finds relevant to these time-periods uncovered in Jerusalem and in the immediate surroundings, up to a radius of approximately 3 km from the ridge extending toward the southeast of the Temple Mount, known as the City of David. This latter area represented the settlement nucleus of the city in the periods included in this survey.

The Chalcolithic Period (ca. 4500–3500 b.c.e.) The archaeological evidence of Jerusalem from the Chalcolithic period is very scant. Though there is indication for some settlement activity within the City of David, the character of the site during this period is far from clear, due to the meager finds. Kenyon’s excavations produced a small amount of evidence from this period, including some sherds and a flint (e.g., Crowfoot 1995: 253; Steiner 2001: 7). Shiloh’s excavation (1984: 6, 8, 10, 20) also revealed limited evidence. Most of these Author’s note: This study is dedicated to the memory of the late Prof. Yigal Shiloh (1937–87), excavator of the City of David, under whom I had the pleasure of studying the history and archaeology of Jerusalem at the Institute of Archaeology of the Hebrew University of Jerusalem, from 1982 to 1986. I would like to thank the editors, for inviting me to contribute to this volume, and my former student, Ms. Julia Iatesta, for assistance in the preparation of this study. This article is a partially abridged and updated (to the end of 2008) version of an earlier study published in Hebrew (Maeir 2000).

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finds came from eroded strata and fills—in other words, they appear in secondary contexts. Although the Chalcolithic remains are not in their original location, the pottery did not include any sherds later than the Early Bronze Age. Similar finds have been reported by Reich and Shukron (2004: 211). In E. Mazar’s recent excavations (2007: 20–21), a series of “cup-marks” were uncovered. Although similar features were previously discovered by Macalister and Duncan (1926: 26–27, figs. 19–20, pl. I), they were dated to later periods. Mazar, based on similar characteristics known from other Chalcolithic sites, suggests dating these features to the Chalcolithic Period and pointed to them as evidence for agricultural activity in Jerusalem during this period. These finds confirm the currently available evidence uncovered at contemporary settlements within the central hill country, as found at various sites located in proximity to Jerusalem (see Gibson and Rowan 2006).

The Early Bronze Age (ca. 3500–2200 b.c.e.) The majority of archaeological excavations conducted in the area of the City of David have revealed Early Bronze Age remains. The earliest architectural remains to have been exposed also date to this period. A series of three burial caves (Caves 1–3) were uncovered during Parker’s excavations in the City of David and were partially published by Vincent (Vincent 1911: 7–12). The caves included a rich assemblage of finds, including complete pottery vessels. However, given the excavation methods used and the only partial publication, very little information can be gathered from these caves. We do know that the vessels date to the Early Bronze Age I (3500–3000 b.c.e) and that they are similar to the pottery repertoire known from contemporary sites located in the central hill country (sites such as Ai/et-Tell and Tell el-Nasbeh). None of the finds from these tombs dates later than the Early Bronze Age (for a discussion of the finds from these tombs, see Maeir 2000: 35; see also Maeir et al. 1992). Based solely on the publication, it is extremely difficult, if not impossible, to know any other details about the caves. There is no evidence of other such caves within the city or its surroundings. The finds from the Early Bronze Age from Kenyon’s excavations were quite limited, supposedly revealing very limited amounts of pottery dating to the EB I and EB II (Steiner 2001: 7–9; Franken 2005: 21, 192–93). Evidence for architectural remains from this period comes from Area E1 and was uncovered during the course of the excavations conducted by Shiloh on the eastern slope of the City of David (Shiloh 1984: 10, 20). Underneath a wall dating to the Middle Bronze II, the remnants of two houses were uncovered. Both of these were small, rectangular structures with built-in benches lining the interior walls. The excavator dated them to the Early Bronze I–II. Similar structures are known from numerous Early Bronze Age sites and are considered the typical house-type in Canaan during this time (see, e.g., A. Mazar 1990: 124–25). An additional Early Bronze Age structure was uncovered during the course of Kenyon’s excavations (1963: 11). A cross-section along the eastern slope of the City

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of David, revealed a “rough stone structure” initially dated to the Early Bronze Age. In the final report (Steiner 2001: 7–9), no additional information was published about either the structure, its context, or its date. These caves and the three (or perhaps two) structures represent the main architectural remains of the Early Bronze Age in Jerusalem. In addition, the following finds should be mentioned: Duncan and Macalister uncovered various remains dating to the Early Bronze Age, some of which were identified by the excavators themselves (Macalister and Duncan 1926: 21–25, 175–78), the rest documented and analyzed by other scholars (e.g., Albright 1930– 31: 164–66; B. Mazar 1975: 18; Maeir 2000: 36). In the excavations conducted by Crowfoot and Fitzgerald, many Early Bronze Age sherds were discovered, though mostly in fills dating to later periods (Crowfoot and Fitzgerald 1929: 20–22, 65–66, pl. 11:10–22). Kenyon’s excavations, apart from the “rough stone structure” mentioned above, revealed Early Bronze Age sherds in fill layers just above the levels of the Early Bronze as well as inside a cave located at the base of the slope (Kenyon 1963: 11–12; see also Steiner 2001: 7). In Shiloh’s excavations, in addition to the two houses mentioned above, a number of Early Bronze Age living surfaces related to the dwellings (in Area B, and especially in Area E1) were uncovered. Contemporary fills and pottery sherds were found in numerous other locations. According to Shiloh (1984: 10, 20), it is possible to date most of these remains to the end of the Early Bronze I and to the Early Bronze II (the first half of the second millennium b.c.e.), while a smaller percentage (mainly the sherds found in secondary contexts), dates to the Early Bronze III. 1 E. Mazar, in her recent excavations in the northern part of the City of David, also reported Early Bronze Age pottery deriving from mixed earth fills (E. Mazar 2007: 22–3). Finally, excavations conducted near the southern end of the Western Wall revealed fill layers containing pottery sherds dating to the Early Bronze Age, mixed with later material (E. Mazar 1987). 2 Franken (2005: 192–93; followed by Steiner 2001: 7) has demonstrated that the Early Bronze Age pottery in Jerusalem originated mostly from outside the region. As a result, he suggests that Jerusalem during this period was a semi-nomadic settlement. This conclusion does not appear to be justified. First, various types of pottery could have reached Jerusalem through trade connections. Furthermore, the architectural evidence, albeit scarce, hardly indicates a temporary settlement. To summarize the nature of Jerusalem during the Early Bronze Age: 1. Jerusalem was completely unprotected during this period. No traces of fortifications have been identified. 2. The settlement during this period was limited to the City of David—in particular, to its eastern slope. Nevertheless, numerous contemporaneous 1.  Although it is often thought that an EB III “Khirbet Kerak Ware” vessel was found in Parker’s excavations (Vincent 1911: pl. XI; see, e.g., Steiner 2001: 7), Maeir et al. (1992) have demonstrated that this find should not be associated with this ware but should instead be dated to the EB I. 2.  For the head of an Egyptian statue that was apparently found at the Church of St. Peter in Gallicantu, on Mount Zion, which may date to the Old Kingdom (= Early Bronze Age), see Mallon 1928; Rowe 1936: 291, pl. 37 as well as more updated discussions in Maeir 1989; 2000: 37–38 n. 37.

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sherds have been uncovered (including along the southern Temple Mount). As a result, it is difficult to determine the exact size and character of this settlement. 3. All this evidence suggests that Jerusalem was a small agricultural settlement during the Early Bronze Age, playing no significant role beyond the context of its immediate environment. Jerusalem lacks all the characteristic signs associated with the contemporary urban Early Bronze settlements in the central hill country. Throughout the entire Early Bronze Age, Jerusalem was inhabited. In contrast, the evidence for settlement during the Early Bronze III is limited. Given the structures revealed during the course of Shiloh’s excavations, it is rather unlikely that, as suggested by Franken (2005: 192– 93), Jerusalem was as a semi-nomadic village. The archaeological data from Early Bronze Age Jerusalem fits well into the pattern of settlement formation as portrayed in other studies. This is especially true for the contemporary settlement patterns in the central hill country (e.g., Gophna 1984: 24–29; Joffe 1993: 73–79). As early as near the beginning of this period, settlements were established at different sites all across this region (including nearby Motza [Eisenberg 1993a], as well as at Ai, Tell el-Nasbeh, Tell el-Farʿah [North], and others). Most of these settlements were also located on elevated spots overlooking the agricultural areas in the valleys. During the course of the Early Bronze Age, a number of these settlements gradually grew into relatively large fortified cities (e.g., Ai, Yarmuth, Tell el-Farʿah [North] and others). At the same time, small unfortified settlements continued to exist (e.g., Jerusalem, Beth-Zur, and others). It is during the Early Bronze Age that the foundations for the later city-states in Canaan took shape, while settlements such as the one in Jerusalem remained small, constituting the agricultural hinterland of these polities, and developed only at a later stage. Thus, it is safe to assume that, during the Early Bronze Age, Jerusalem was not yet a substantial settlement like other contemporaneous sites in the central hill country, and only later did it ultimately develop, during the second millennium b.c.e. 3

Middle Bronze Age I/Early Bronze Age IV (ca. 2200–2000 B.C.E.) During this period (also known as the Intermediate Bronze Age), there is evidence that significant changes that took place in the socioeconomic structures and processes throughout the land. There was a major decline and it is even possible that urban society ended. A predominantly rural settlement pattern is apparent, with small villages and nomadic/semi-nomadic groups, the main evidence for them being concentrations of burials, particularly in the central hill country (in general, see, e.g., Palumbo 1990; Dever 1995). Unlike the finds from the Early Bronze Age, mostly uncovered at the northern end of the City of David in Jerusalem, there are far fewer finds from the Middle 3.  It should be stressed that claims that Jerusalem is mentioned in the 3rd millennium b.c.e. texts from Ebla, Syria (e.g., Pettinato 1976: 46; Matthiae 1980: 181, fig. 48), thus hinting at its ostensible importance during this period, have no basis at all and consequently should be disregarded (see, e.g., Matthiae 1982: 8; Muhly 1983: 74–75; Biggs 1992: 265).

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Bronze I. Very little information can be gleaned from this material. In fact, I am unaware of any finds from this period uncovered within the City of David itself (see, e.g., Steiner 2001: 9). Evidence for human occupation in the area of Jerusalem during this period comes solely from tombs located on the outskirts of the city. Approximately 20 graves were found on the Mount of Olives by both Warren and Conder (1884: pl. 45:5, 14; see as well Prag 1995: 240, fig. 27) and by Kenyon (1974: 130–32; Prag 1995: 221– 41). A number of other tombs have been reported in the area of Bethany (Vincent 1914; Loffreda 1974: 143), within the area of the village of Silwan (Saʿad 1964), and perhaps, even on the Temple Mount itself (Gonen 1985). All these graves belong to types characteristic of this period (see, e.g., Dever 1987a; Palumbo 1990: 120–26; Greenhut 1995), and the associated pottery is similar to types found at other sites in the central hill country. During the construction of the Augusta Victoria Hospital on Mount Scopus, remains of a tomb of the dolmen type were uncovered (Gressman 1907; Mader 1927: 103; cf. Vincent and Steve 1954–56: 67 n. 4). Similar “dolmen” tombs are mainly found in northeast Israel. Although their date is controversial (e.g., Epstein 1975; 1985; Yassine 1985; Vinitzky 1992), there is clear evidence that they were used during the Middle Bronze I. It should be noted that another dolmen-like tomb was found at Khalet el-Ful, near Jebel Qaʿaqir, southwest of Hebron. It appears to be related to a contemporary cemetery that is located nearby (Anonymous 1969: 21). Thus, it is likely that the dolmen tomb found on Mount Zion is related to the Middle Bronze Age I cemeteries that have been documented in its proximity. It appears, then, that all presently available evidence dating to the Middle Bronze I from Jerusalem and its immediate surroundings comes from burial contexts. Based on these finds, and due to what is known about the nature of the society at the time, one possible explanation of the character of these remains is that Jerusalem’s inhabitants were nomads or semi-nomads and therefore left behind no signs of settlement save for the burials of their dead. However, the lack of architectural remains could also be explained by the limited areas that have been excavated. Although no remains have been uncovered within the City of David, there are good chances that sites dating to this period may have been located in the mountainous areas in immediate proximity to Jerusalem. The extensive remains excavated in the Rephaim Valley, less than 5 km to the west, may testify to this (see Edelstein and Milevski 1994; Edelstein, Milevski, and Aurant 1998; Eisenberg 1993b: 83–88). The same is true for settlement and burial remains in the modernday Pisgat Zeʾev neighborhood, north of Jerusalem (Seligman 1994).

Middle Bronze Age II (ca. 2000–1550 b.c.e.) The Middle Bronze Age II is a period during which major changes occured throughout the ancient Near East in general and in Canaan in particular (see, e.g., Dever 1987b; Ilan 1995). Following the break in the urban culture seen in the preceding period, urban entities once again emerged throughout the land, their

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appearance intricately connected with social, economic, and political developments well-attested throughout the Near East. Although the earliest of these developments are seen along the coastal region and in the northern valleys of Canaan, during the middle of this period, around the 18th and 17th centuries b.c.e, these major changes are seen in the central hill country as well (see, e.g., Cohen 2002; Maeir 2002). In fact, it is during the Middle Bronze II that one can detect the first indications of Jerusalem’s transition to a settlement with an urban character and its development into the center of an emerging polity. As in other parts of Canaan (see, e.g., Finkelstein 1993), it is most likely that this phase represents the beginning of Jerusalem’s role as one of the many Canaanite city-states that existed in the region throughout the Middle and Late Bronze Ages. The archaeological remains in Jerusalem from the first phase of this period, the Middle Bronze IIA (ca. 2000–1750 b.c.e.), are relatively scarce. One tomb was uncovered during the excavations carried out by Duncan and Macalister within the city itself (Macalister and Duncan 1926: 175–76; Prag 1991). Among the finds, a jar handle with the imprint of an Egyptian stamp-seal and a scarab dating to the 12th Dynasty were published (Macalister and Duncan 1926: 178). For the second half of this period, the Middle Bronze Age IIB (1750–1550 b.c.e.), most of the archaeological evidence, which in recent years has been very impressive, comes from within the City of David. Through the excavations of Kenyon (1968: 29; 1974: 83–84; Steiner 2001: 10–23) and Shiloh (Shiloh 1984: 10; Cahill 2003: 21–26), and most likely also those of Parker (Vincent 1911: 11; see Reich 1987: 163–64; Steiner 1988), sections of the earliest known wall of the city were uncovered. The remains of this wall were found along the eastern part of the summit of the city, halfway up the slope. According to Kenyon, this wall also included a fortified tower. Based on the location of the wall on the slope, it seems most likely that the city spread across most of the slope and not just on the summit. The wall was constructed during the 19th century b.c.e. and continued in use for approximately 100 years, including two phases of construction. The most important remains dating to the Middle Bronze Age II were clearly those uncovered in the excavations of Reich and Shukron (2004) along the eastern slope of the mountain ridge of the city, above the Gihon Spring. Remains of a monumental fortification system and other related features were discovered, all of which have been dated unequivocally to this period. Most impressive are the monumental, massive towers that were built near the bottom of the eastern slope of the City of David, just above the spring. This fortification system was obviously built to protect the area of the spring, a related water system, and its immediate surroundings. Thus, these impressive remains demonstrate that not only was the water system in Jerusalem in use at the time but that the city was surrounded by a very impressive, and labor intensive, fortification system––indicating the status and impressive organization abilities of the polity existing in Jerusalem at the time. These elements have been dated to the mid-MB II, similar to the dating suggested by Kenyon and Shiloh for the MB II wall sections. During Kenyon and Shiloh’s excavations, remains of buildings that included surface levels contemporary with the city walls were found (see Steiner 2001: 12–16;

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Shiloh 1985: 66). The buildings, like the walls, also included more than one phase of construction. Shiloh’s excavation revealed complete pottery vessels as well as bone inlays and jewelry from the same period (see, e.g., Ariel 1990: 120–24). In addition, an infant burial inside a jar was found underneath one of the floors, a burial type common during this period (Y. Shiloh, pers. comm.). Most of the finds date to the 18th century b.c.e, and although remains from the end of the Middle Bronze Age are scarce, they do exist (for details, see Maeir 2000: 44 n. 55, contra Steiner 2001: 23). Recently, E. Mazar (2006) has suggested that during the Middle Bronze Age the city was rather limited in size, and did not include the northern parts of the City of David. Based on the lack of finds dating to the MB II from her excavations, she posits that the city was in fact only about 4 hectares large. While having very interesting implications for understanding the role of the city during the MB II, this suggestion requires further research. Evidence of occupation not only derives from the city but also from the immediate vicinity, where burial caves dating the Middle Bronze IIB were found. These help to complete the archaeological picture of Jerusalem during this period. As with most other periods, the caves are located east of the city, in the vicinity of Bethany, near the Mount of Olives (see Saller 1957; 1984), possibly within the Silwan village (Smith 1970) and on the Mount of Olives itself (Warren and Conder 1884: pls. XLV:11, 19, 20, 21; XLVII:26–30; Sallers 1964). Special attention has been devoted to the burial cave discovered near the Dominus Flevit Church, which is situated on the western slope of the Mount of Olives (Sallers 1964). This cave was first used during the Middle Bronze II and remained in use until the Late Bronze IIA. The finds from this cave were rather diverse, including more than 1,200 pottery vessels, alabaster, metal vessels, jewelry, inlaid bones, scarabs, and more, dating between the MB IIB and the LB IIA. These material remains seem to mirror the daily lifestyle of Jerusalem during this time-frame. An additional burial cave, which we believe also dates to the MB IIB, was discovered by Hänsler (1909) in the late 19th century at Jebel er-Ras, near the Abu Tor neighborhood of Jerusalem (overlooking the Hinnom Valley). Although the finds from the cave were never properly described and have supposedly disappeared, this tomb can be dated to MB II. The dating is based on the fact that, among the 400 pottery vessels, Hänsler noted several, large, four-handled jars, which are characteristic of the Middle Bronze Age (for a detailed discussion, see Maeir 2000: 47–49 nn. 62–64). 4 To summarize: at the beginning of the Middle Bronze II (MB IIA), there is very little evidence for settlement (or other) activity in the city of Jerusalem itself and its immediate surroundings. A similar situation can be observed throughout the central hill country. There, too, only a very small number of sites dating to the MB IIA have been identified (see, e.g., Gerstenblith 1983: 34–35; Cohen 2002: 107–28).

4.  For several additional finds from Jerusalem and its vicinity that may date to MB II, see Maeir 2000: 48–49 nn. 64–65.

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During the 18th century b.c.e, the first significant evidence emerges within the context of the city of Jerusalem. The site undergoes a transition to a fortified settlement encompassing the summit of the City of David and extending over most of the eastern slope. These building activities continued into the Middle Bronze IIB (the 17th and 16th centuries b.c.e.), however, with only limited remains for this later stage. The city did continued to exist and was characterized by a rich material culture, as can be seen from the evidence uncovered in the burial caves in and around the immediate vicinity of the city. The archaeological evidence for the emergence of Jerusalem as a regional center during the 18th century b.c.e. is also supported by the picture presented to us in Egyptian sources. Among the contemporary sites in the central hill country, only Jerusalem and Shechem are mentioned in the Egyptian Execration Texts. This supports the view that these two cities constituted the main urban centers of the central hill country (e.g., Aharoni 1979: 146–47; but see Naʾaman 1992). The appearance of fortified settlements, such as Jerusalem and Shechem (and including the smaller sites of Beth-Zur, Hebron, and, recently, apparently Bittir as well 5), in the area of the central hill country, highlights the state-formation processes that began during this period and continued throughout the Late Bronze Age. Clearly, if Jerusalem served as a regional (and perhaps urban) center, there were smaller settlements in its vicinity. Quite possibly, these can be identified at several rural MB II sites that have been found in the vicinity of Jerusalem, such as the site to the north of the city at Pisgat Zeʾev (Seligman 1993), and the village sites discovered in western Jerusalem in the Rephaim Valley, in the area of modern-day Manahat and the Jerusalem Biblical Zoo (e.g., Edelstein, Milevski, and Aurant 1998; Eisenberg 1993b; Eisenberg and de Groot 2001; for a general summary, see now Faust 2006). The formation of city-states such as Jerusalem during this period and their control of the surrounding countryside laid the foundation for the political and social structures that continued to influence the region during the following periods. The limited finds from the late MB II and early LB in the City of David and the presence of tombs of this period in the vicinity of Jerusalem make it difficult to accept the suggestion that settlement in Jerusalem ceased following the 17th century b.c.e. (e.g., Steiner 2001: 22; Franken 1989). There is no reason to assume that the many advantages of settlement in Jerusalem, which were taken advantage of throughout most periods from the 3rd millennium b.c.e. onward, would not be utilized at a time when settlement in Canaan was at one of its peaks prior to the classical periods and when most ecological niches throughout the country were rather intensively utilized (e.g., Broshi and Gophna 1986). The cultural continuity 5.  An as-yet unpublished fortified settlement of very impressive proportions has been recently excavated at the village of Bittir/Kh. el-Yahud (ancient Betar  ) by Y. Magen and S. Batz. This site, previously excavated by Ussishkin (1993), is located ca. 4 km southwest of the MB II site in the Rephaim Valley (Eisenberg 1993b). A full understanding of this fascinating site, its relationship to other MB II sites in the region, and its implications for understanding MB II settlement in the central hills in general and in Jerusalem in particular will have to await the publication of the finds. In the meantime, the site has only been mentioned briefly in the Hebrew-language daily Haaretz on 17/12/2006 (http://www.haaretz.com/hasen/spages/801792.html).

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between the end of the Middle Bronze Age and the beginning of the Late Bronze Age, as seen particularly in the Dominus Flevit tomb (Saller 1964), hints at an apparent lack of destruction in Jerusalem at the end of the Middle Bronze Age (see also Cahill 2003: 26). Although many sites in the region were destroyed during the transition between these two periods, this was not the case at all sites (e.g., Beth Sheʾan; see Mazar 2003).

The Late Bronze Age (ca. 1550–1200 b.c.e.) The el-Amarna documents are the only historical source relating to Jerusalem during the Late Bronze Age, 6 and they enable us to reconstruct the political status of Jerusalem during this period. Nevertheless, their value is limited, because they only inform us about the mid-14th century b.c.e, the time during which this archive was composed. Similarly, the archaeological finds do provide evidence for the entire Late Bronze Age. However, given their inconsistent and chronologically uneven nature, they only attest to specific moments during the entire period. The archaeological record from the City of David from the first part of the period (Late Bronze I: 1550–1400 b.c.e.) are quite limited (see Kenyon 1965: 13; cf. Steiner 2001: 24, who redated these finds; Tarler and Cahill 1992: 55; Cahill 2003: 27). However, as mentioned above, the burials surrounding the city, even if the amount of material is limited, indicate a continuous presence between the late Middle Bronze and the Late Bronze Age I. This corresponds to the contemporary situation throughout Canaan, with evidence for a general “crisis” during the transition between these two periods, regardless of the nature of arguments used in favor of this crisis (see, e.g., Hoffmeier 1989; Dever 1990; Weinstein 1991; Naʾaman 1994). The lack of evidence for destruction in Jerusalem (as well as in other locations) is indicative of the incoherent development of settlements during this period. The archaeological remains dating to the 14th century—that is, the second phase of the Late Bronze Age—are of tremendous importance because they are contemporaneous with the Amarna archives, which include letters sent to Egypt by the ruler of Jerusalem, Abdi-Hepa, as well as letters written by other contemporary rulers who mention the city (see, e.g., Moran 1992: 325–34; Rainey and Ahituv 2000; Goren et al. 2003: 265–69). 7 The most significant discovery on the City of David ridge from this period consists of extensive building remains discovered during the course of the excavations conducted by Kenyon and by Shiloh. The remains are located along the eastern slope of the ridge (Kenyon’s Area A; Shiloh’s Area G) and included a series of stone terraces. These terraces were originally thought to have functioned as substructures. This theory was primarily based on the steepness of the slope and the assumption 6.  See, e.g., Maeir 2000: 50–51 n. 73. 7.  There is no reason to accept the suggestion that Urusalim as it appears in the Amarna texts should not be identified with Late Bronze Age Jerusalem (e.g., Franken and Steiner 1992; Steiner 2001: 40). The similarity of the names (Urusalim/Jerusalem), the existence of relevant (albeit limited) archaeological remains, as well as no other logical geographical identification for this toponym, makes this suggestion untenable.

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that significant structures, such as the city’s fortress and palace, would have been located at the highest spot. However, no traces of any such structure have been uncovered. Until recently, it was assumed that these terraces were contemporaneous with the Amarna letters and that they constituted a definitive link tying the archaeological and the historical evidence of the city together (e.g., Kenyon 1974: 95; Shiloh 1984: 13). Recently, scholars have begun to reassess the evidence and the suggestion has been made that the structures are of a later date (e.g., Steiner 2001: 24–41; Cahill 2003: 33–54), namely, the last phase of the Late Bronze Age or even the Iron Age (see separate discussion of this below, pp. 192–193). As a result, these significant building remains would have no connection with the Amarna documents and do not date to the Late Bronze Age. Other Late Bronze Age remains from the excavated areas around the City of David are few in number. In Area E1 of Shiloh’s excavations, a small amount of Late Bronze Age pottery was discovered (Shiloh 1984: 10) and a few other finds possibly from the period have been reported (e.g., Macalister and Duncan 1926: 175). However, evidence from the Late Bronze II has been found in a larger quantity along the periphery of the city. On the eastern periphery, tombs that continued in use from the Middle Bronze Age through the Late Bronze Age were found near the Dominus Flevit Church on the Mount of Olives (Saller 1964: 196–97) and within the area of Bethany (Saller 1964: 168–69; Vincent 1914: 439). To the south of the city, on the Armon Hanatziv (Government House) hill, a hewn “cistern” with stairs that contained pottery dating to the 14th century b.c.e. was uncovered (Baramki 1935). Although no evidence of burials was found in this context, it may very well have served as a necropolis during this period. 8 Another tomb was discovered in the western part of the city, in the Nahlat Ahim neighborhood, which is located between the Mahaneh Yehuda neighborhood and the Knesset. The hewn-stone tomb was excavated during the 1930s (Maisler 1932– 33) but was not published until almost three decades later (Amiran 1960). The tomb contained a rich assemblage of pottery vessels, including a large percentage of imported Mycenaean (Myc IIIA) and Cypriote wares. Interestingly, typologically this pottery has been dated to the 14th century b.c.e.—that is, to the time of the Amarna archives. It should be stressed, however, that this tomb is located more than 2.5 km from the City of David. Therefore, it remains questionable whether it was used by the inhabitants of the city or by people living in its immediate vicinity, either villagers or nomads. G. Barkay (1990; 1996) suggested that an Egyptian temple existed in Jerusalem during the Late Bronze Age, somewhere on the grounds of the École Biblique north of the Damascus Gate. This hypothesis was based on various Egyptian objects recovered during the course of the last century and which are still in the Dominican Monastery. Barkay suggested that these finds indicate the existence of an Egyptian shrine built along the road between Jerusalem and Shechem and dating to the days 8.  Note the similarity of this “cistern” to a similar pit found next to the Dominus Flevit Church (see Saller 1964: 8–9).

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of the 19th Dynasty. This theory has been hotly debated (e.g., Wimmer 1990; 1998; Geva 1991; 1992; Barkay 1991; 1992) and unfortunately, given the lack of conclusive evidence, no definitive conclusion can be reached. Based on the limited yet varied Late Bronze Age material in Jerusalem, we can now attempt to reconstruct the city. In spite of the sparse remains, it is possible to conclude that the majority of the material is located on the northern (Kenyon’s Areas A and P [Steiner 2001: 24–41], Shiloh’s Area G [Shiloh 1984: 13]) and central (Shiloh’s Area E1 [Shiloh 1984: 10]) areas of the City of David ridge. 9 It is thus quite logical to assume that the settlement was approximately the size of the earlier, Middle Bronze Age site. Nevertheless, given the limited finds from this period, it is hardly prudent to assume very much about the character of the site during the Late Bronze Age. There was most likely some sort of settlement in Jerusalem, but it was relatively small. Jerusalem was neither large nor flourishing; it was instead a small and peripheral site. Nonetheless, the evidence from the Amarna archives suggests that in spite of its reduced size, the city played an important role in the geopolitical scene of Canaan during the Late Bronze Age. Either existing structures and other material have not survived or, more likely, even a relatively small and seemingly insignificant settlement could have played the role of a political center of some importance on the local Canaanite scene (see, e.g., Naʾaman 1996; see, e.g., Steiner 2001: 40–41 for a different opinion). The identity of the population of Jerusalem during the Iron Age is an interesting subject. Although it is most logical to assume that the inhabitants of the city were Canaanites, some scholars have suggested that the Jebusites lived in Jerusalem during the Late Bronze Age, a theory that is based on the biblical text 10 (e.g., Kenyon 1974: 81–97; Abramski 1985). If the Jebusites were an ethnic group that did indeed exist, it would be more sensible to assume that they were a group who arrived in the region during the transition between the Late Bronze and Iron Age, a time of major changes in the entire Near East. Accordingly, the Jebusites should be seen as one of the peoples that came from the general area of the then-declining Hittite Empire and settled in the southern Levant (see, e.g., Mazar 1975: 24–25; Reed 1992). Although an interesting theory, it should be stressed that there is no archaeological evidence indicating that a foreign population reached Jerusalem during the Late Bronze Age. 11 Despite the fact that there is hardly any concrete evidence dating to the Late Bronze Age in the City of David, and there is even less evidence for continuity between the Late Bronze Age and the Iron Age, Hess (1989) has noted the possibility of stylistic parallels between the Jerusalem Amarna correspondence and the Book 9.  Although the “stepped-stone structure” and related elements had previously been dated to the Late Bronze Age, the currently available evidence does not support this. For updated discussions of this issue, see Cahill 2003: 33–54; below, pp. 189ff.). 10.  Note, of course, the suggestions that Jebus and Jerusalem are two different locations. See: Miller 1974; Franken and Steiner 1992, which, like the suggestion negating a connection between Urusalim and Jerusalem, is hard to accept in light of the available evidence (see above, n. 7). 11.  For a more extensive discussion of the origin and identity of the Jebusites, as well as the difficulty of identifying them in the archaeological record, see, e.g., Maeir 2000: 59–61.

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of Psalms. This may hint at both the continuation of scribal (and other cultural) traditions and at the presence of the same population in Jerusalem between the Late Bronze and Iron Ages.

Summary In this chapter, I have made an attempt briefly to survey the archaeological material from Jerusalem and its immediate surroundings between the Chalcolithic period and the Late Bronze Age and to relate it to the very limited historical evidence from the same period. Although the finds are sparse, they are paramount in our understanding of the city and its place in recorded history. The archaeological material, along with the available historical data, helps us create a picture––albeit incomplete––of the city’s early history, from its origins in the late prehistoric period until the end of the Bronze Age. Although much has yet to be learned, the evidence does serve as a backdrop for the study of Jerusalem in later periods, when the historical and archaeological evidence are more abundant.

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Smith, R. 1970 A MB II Tomb from the Vicinity of Jerusalem. Annual of the Department of Antiquities of Jordan 15: 17–20. Steiner, M. 1988 Letter to the Editor. Israel Exploration Journal 38: 203–4. 2001 Excavations in Jerusalem 1961–1967, Volume III: The Settlement in the Bronze and Iron Ages. Sheffield: Sheffield Academic Press. Sylvester, F., and Saller, J. 1957 Excavations at Bethany. Jerusalem: Studium Biblicum Franciscanum. Jerusalem: Franciscan Press. Tarler, D., and. Cahill, J. M. . 1992 David, City of. In Anchor Bible Dictionary, vol. 2: 52–67. New York: Doubleday. Ussishkin, D. 1993 Archaeological Soundings at Betar, Bar-Kochba’s Last Stronghold. Tel Aviv 20: 66–97. Vincent, L. 1911 Jerusalem sous terre: les recentes fouilles d’ophel. London: H. Cox. 1914 Un Hypogée cananéen à Bethanie. Revue Biblique 23: 438–41. Vincent, L., and Steve, M. 1954–56  Jérusalem de l’ancien Testament I–III. Paris: Gabalda. Vinitzky, L. 1992 The Date of the Dolmens in the Golan and the Galilee: A Reassessment. Tel Aviv 19: 100–12. Warren, C., and Conder, C. R. 1884 The Survey of Western Palestine: Jerusalem. London: Palestine Exploration Fund. Weinstein, J. M. 1991 Egypt and the Middle Bronze IIC/Late Bronze IA Transition in Palestine. Levant 23: 105–15. Wimmer, S. 1990 Egyptian Temples in Canaan and Sinai. Pp. 1065–1106 in Studies in Egyptology Presented to Miriam Lichtheim, vol. 2, ed. S. Israelit-Groll. Jerusalem: Magnes. 1998 (No) More Egyptian temples in Canaan and Sinai. Pp. 87–123 In Jerusalem Studies in Egyptology, ed. I. Shirun-Grumach. Wiesbaden: Harrassowitz. Yassine, K. 1985 The Dolmens: Construction and Dating Reconsidered. BASOR 259: 63–69.

Jerusalem in the Iron Age: Archaeology and Text; Reality and Myth Israel Finkelstein Tel Aviv University

Introduction Being part of western thinking, most archaeologists take the importance of Jerusalem for granted. But the fact that Jerusalem grew into great dominance is an anomaly. The city is located in a remote corner of the Levant––a rugged mountainous region surrounded on two sides by arid zones and itself poor in rainfall and exposed to regular droughts. Economically, it has almost nothing to offer compared to other regions in the Levant, at least those located west of the Jordan; it is situated far from ports, international roads or even routes of national importance. Conventional wisdom has linked the importance of Jerusalem to its early history as the capital of the illustrious United Monarchy of David and Solomon (recently Cogan 2000; Stager 2003). But even scholars holding conservative views start doubting the historicity of a great 10th-century b.c.e. empire stretching over large parts of the Levant (for example, Ben-Tor 2001: 24; A. Mazar 2006). There is no evidence for a glamorous capital in Jerusalem (Finkelstein 2001; Ussishkin 2003a; Finkelstein et al. 2007); there were not enough people in the highlands of Judah for the exploits of such an empire (Lehmann 2003: 157); the traditional archaeological evidence for such an empire has recently been shown to date to the 9th century b.c.e. (Finkelstein and Piasetzky 2003; Sharon et al. 2007); there are good clues to the fact that in the 10th century much of Canaan was still organized in a city-state territorial system (Finkelstein 2003); there is no attestation of this empire in any extra­ biblical source (for the rejection of the great United Monarchy by biblical scholars, see Van Seters 1983: 307–12; Garbini 1988: 32; Knauf 1991; Auld 1996: 160–69; Miller 1997; Niemann 1997). So what is the background for the biblical description, and how did Jerusalem rise to prominence? In this paper, I wish to summarize my views regarding the different steps in the rise of Jerusalem, with reference to archaeology, ancient Near Eastern texts, and stages of compilation of the biblical text.

Preliminary Comments Chronology I will follow the Low Chronology system for the Iron Age pottery and, accordingly, for strata in the Levant. This places the transition from the late Iron I to the Author’s note : This essay was completed in June 2007.

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Iron IIA ca. 920 b.c.e., as indeed indicated by recent radiocarbon results (Sharon et al. 2007). 14C results also show that strata traditionally dated to the 10th century b.c.e. and associated with the United Monarchy of King Solomon in fact date to the first half of the 9th century b.c.e. (Finkelstein and Piasetzky 2003; Sharon et al. 2007). Literacy One hundred and fifty years of archaeological exploration that did not leave a single important location in Jerusalem or a single major mound in Judah un­ excavated have failed to reveal evidence for meaningful literacy before the late 8th century b.c.e. (e.g., Jamieson-Drake 1991; see also Renz 1995). In this case, the absence of evidence does imply evidence of absence. Of course, a single genuine royal monument from the 9th century may surface one day; if Moab shows evidence for royal inscriptions there is no reason why Judah should not. Yet, this is not the kind of literacy expected for the compilation of sophisticated, elaborate biblical works such as those found in 1–2 Samuel, described by scholars such as Von Rad (1966: 176) as the beginning of history writing in ancient Israel. Compilation of the Biblical Text The dating of biblical works such as the rise of David to power and the succession history (both in 1–2 Samuel) to the 10th century b.c.e. was based on circular argumentation, that is, on the biblical testimony of a great United Monarchy and a prosperous 10th-century Jerusalem with a high degree of administration, including the office of a royal scribe (for example, Rost 1982; von Rad 1966: 176–204). Yet, from every possible perspective—literacy, bureaucracy, state formation, and foreign relations—the earliest possible compilation did not take place before the late 8th century, after the fall of the Northern Kingdom of Israel (Schniedewind 2004: 64–90). The early version of the Deuteronomistic history was put in writing in the late 7th century b.c.e. (for example Cross 1973: 274–88; Nelson 1981; Halpern and Vanderhooft 1991). Having set the stage, I can now return to the rise of Jerusalem, which I would divide into three major phases.

A Dimorphic Chiefdom: The Iron I (Including the 10th Century b.c.e.) The Amarna letters indicate that in the 14th century b.c.e. the central hill country was ruled by two centers: Shechem and Jerusalem, with the border between them probably passing somewhere near Bethel (Finkelstein 1996). Jerusalem was involved in clashes and intrigues with city-states in the lowlands, which demonstrate its relative importance in the Canaanite scene. Yet, the archaeology of the southern highlands features a depleted landscape. The finds in Jerusalem are limited to pockets of pottery, and the southern hill country was sparsely inhabited by a very small number of tiny settlements (Ofer 1994: 100–101). The whole sedentary population can be estimated at no more than a few hundred inhabitants, which were prob-

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ably supplemented by a relatively large number of pastoral people. Naʾaman (1996) demonstrated that this situation during the Amarna period is highly instructive for the study of 10th-century b.c.e. Jerusalem. In other words, a mountainous entity composed of sedentary and pastoral groups could stretch over a relatively large territory in the southern highlands and be ruled from a small, unfortified government village. Michael Rowton (1973; 1976) described such an entity as a “dimorphic chiefdom.” There is no undisputed literary evidence for the Iron I (ca. 1150–920 b.c.e.), but one can assume that at that time the highlands continued to be characterized by Amarna-like conditions. Despite a certain growth in the number of sites in the Judean highlands (Ofer 1994: 102–3), the situation in Jerusalem did not change. And though Canaan was not ruled by Egypt anymore, it is reasonable to propose that the system of government and the territorial disposition remained the same: In the Iron I (which covers the 10th century, too), Jerusalem was a typical highlands village with no monumental architecture and no fortifications; yet it must have ruled the entire southern highlands. Neil Silberman and I (2006a: 31–59) have recently argued that the only genuine, vague memory in the biblical text about 10th-century Judah is the description of David and his men as a group of Apiru active on the margin of the Judean highlands, always on the run from central authority. The Amarna letters record the activity of similar groups, in comparable situations, and at least once––in the case of Late Bronze Qiltu/biblical Keilah––in a similar location. The author of the Rise of David to Power described a characteristic Apiru reality that nobody could have imagined any more in late-monarchic times, when the Judahite highlands became densely settled and fully controlled by the central authority in Jerusalem. Another genuine 10th-century memory concealed in 1 Samuel is that of a northern Israelite entity centered in the highlands to the north of Jerusalem––the House of Saul (Finkelstein 2002; 2006). The concentration of late Iron I sites in this area; the testimony of Pharaoh Sheshonq I who campaigned in the area of Gibeon; and clues within the biblical text––all of which are beyond the scope of this article–– hint that a territorial entity strong enough to attract the attention of the Egyptian pharaoh emerged in the 10th century b.c.e, with its hub in the area of GibeonBethel. It probably covered the highlands to the north of Jerusalem and a sector of Transjordan near the Jabbok River (see, for example, Edelman 1985; Naʾaman 1990). Following the collapse of this entity as a result of the Egyptian campaign, its territory could have been taken over by the rulers of Jerusalem, who acted in cooperation with Egypt and the Philistine cities. This may be the only “history” behind the ancient memory of a “United Monarchy,” meaning that in the early days of the Davidic dynasty, Jerusalem ruled––for a short time––over territories in the northern sector of the central highlands that later became part of the Northern Kingdom of Israel and that did not belong to Judah of the time of the authors, in the late-monarchic era. According to 1 Kgs 14:25, Pharaoh Shishak took treasures from the Jerusalem Temple in the fifth year of Rehoboam. The conventional theory on this event (for

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example Kitchen 1986; Shortland 2005) was based on a preconception regarding great opulence in post-United Monarchy Jerusalem. Scholars argued that Jerusalem is not mentioned in the Sheshonq I list because the temple’s treasures were delivered to the pharaoh somewhere to the north of Jerusalem (for example, Aharoni 1979: 326; Kitchen 1986: 447). This is a circular argument. There is no way to accurately date the Sheshonq I campaign within the mid- to late-10th century (Wente 1976: 276; Redford 1992: 312); there was nothing in 10th-century Jerusalem to attract an Egyptian pharaoh; had it been an important city, Sheshonq I would not have hesitated to conquer it and boast about his exploits; the campaign is directed against the territory to the north of Jerusalem; and finally, no Judahite town–– neither in the highlands nor in the Shephelah—is mentioned in the Sheshonq I list. There are only two possible explanations for all this: either Jerusalem was so unimportant and underdeveloped that the Egyptian king did not find it worth attacking; or, the formative, dimorphic entity of Jerusalem actually cooperated with the pharaoh, possibly against the early northern Israelite entity that was located in the area of Gibeon.

A Formative State: The Iron Age IIA (the 9th Century b.c.e.) A major change in the south took place in the 9th century b.c.e. The first signs of monumental building activity in the Shephelah and the Beersheba Valley appear in the Iron IIA at Lachish, Beth-Shemesh, Beersheba, and Arad (Ussishkin 2004: 78–83; Herzog and Singer-Avitz 2004; Bunimovitz and Lederman 2006). There can be no doubt that these sites served as administrative centers of the Kingdom of Judah. In Jerusalem, too, the earliest evidence for monumental construction may date to the Iron IIA. I refer to one or two monuments that have been traditionally associated with the 10th century but that may in fact date to the 9th century b.c.e. The first is the “Stepped Stone Mantle” (for the difference between this and the the “Stepped Stone Structure,” see Finkelstein et  al. 2007), which is part of the ancient support systems built on the eastern slope of the City of David. This is the narrowest part of the mound of ancient Jerusalem, and therefore a support structure in the form of stone terraces existed here continuously from at least the 2nd millennium b.c.e. until the Hellenistic period, if not later. The “Stepped Stone Mantle,” which covers a section of these terraces, is the more elaborate element in this system. Circumstantial considerations, such as pottery sherds found in one spot under the terraces (Steiner 1994) and within the courses of a similar, nearby element (Steiner 2003: 358), led archaeologists to date it to the 10th century b.c.e. (recently, A. Mazar 2006; E. Mazar 2007)—that is, the 9th century b.c.e., in Low Chronology terms. The building constructed on the lower part of the “Stepped Stone Mantle”should be dated to the late Iron II (Kenyon 1974: 137; Shiloh 1984: 28); pottery sherds referred to by Cahill (2003: 57–61, fig. 1.13) as ostensibly belonging to an early, Iron IIA floor in the building seem to have originated from a fill or a make-up for the construction of the later building. All in all, the early

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phase of the “Stepped Stone Mantle”should probably be dated to the 9th or early 8th century b.c.e. It was renovated in the Hellenistic period, in order to support the Hasmonean First Wall (Finkelstein et al. 2007). The second piece of evidence that may relate to 9th-century Jerusalem comes from the ridge immediately above and to the north of the “Stepped Stone Mantle.” Eilat Mazar has recently unearthed the foundations of massive walls there, which she interpreted as a single, monumental building. She dated it to the 10th century b.c.e. (E. Mazar 2007). Yet, the connection between the different elements described by E. Mazar is not well-established and their dating is difficult, because no floors or even in situ fills related to the original construction were found. The walls are sandwiched between Roman construction above them and an earthen fill below them; the latest sherds in the latter date to the late Iron I or early Iron IIA. For various circumstantial considerations (see Finkelstein et al. 2007), it seems that at least some of the walls unearthed by E. Mazar should be dated to the Hellenistic period–– contemporary with the First Wall and the later phase in the history of the “Stepped Stone Mantle.” Nonetheless, the current data do not allow brushing aside the possibility that some of the elements unearthed by E. Mazar originated in an earlier period. If this is the case, these walls may be the only remains left of the building that was intended to be supported by the early phase of the “Stepped Stone Mantle,” and both may then be dated (on the basis of the latest sherds found in the earthen fill under the walls on the ridge) to an advanced stage of the Iron IIA, in the 9th century b.c.e. A somewhat later date in the Iron Age cannot be ruled out on the basis of the available data. Another piece of evidence for the rise of Jerusalem as a capital of a bureaucratic kingdom is the large group of bullae that has recently been found near the Gihon Spring by Reich and Shukron (2006). They are associated with very late Iron IIA (or transitional Iron IIA/Iron IIB) pottery. They attest to the existence of advanced administration in the capital of Judah around 800 b.c.e. or somewhat later. When in the Iron IIA should we date this formative phase in the history of Jerusalem and Judah? Two scenarios are possible: either when Judah was dominated by the prosperous Omride Dynasty of the Northern Kingdom, or immediately after the fall of the Omrides and the destruction of Gath in the lower Shephelah––the most important Philistine city of the time––in the second half of the 9th century. In fact, the process could have started in the mid-9th century, when Judah is already mentioned in the Tel Dan stele as a player on the Levantine scene, and intensified after the temporary decline of the North and the rise of Aram-Damascus to prominence. It seems possible that in the mid- and late 9th century, Judah cooperated with Aram Damascus and its king, Hazael, who brought about the weakening of Israel and the destruction of Gath. The story about the tax paid by Jehoash to Hazael in 2 Kgs 12:18–19 seems to preserve a genuine memory of these events. If this was the case, the first expansion of Jerusalem took place under Damascene hegemony (see in detail Fantalkin and Finkelstein 2006). The biblical text may have preserved memories of other 9th-century b.c.e. realities, such as the prominence of the city of Gath in the David cycle. Aren Maeir’s

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excavations at Tell es-Safi, the location of Gath, have shown that the city reached its peak prosperity in the early 9th century (Uziel and Maeir 2005) and that it was destroyed in the second half of that century, probably by King Hazael of Damascus (Maeir 2004). It never recovered from this shock; neither does Gath appear in late-monarchic prophetic sources or in Assyrian records of the 7th century b.c.e. (Schniedewind 1998: 75). Hence, the biblical material on Gath must reflect a prelate-9th century b.c.e. reality. Another clue is the description of David’s wars, which Naʾaman (2002) convincingly read against a 9th-century background. Especially indicative is the equation between the biblical Hadadezer, David’s foe, and Hadadidri king of Damascus, who is mentioned in the days of Shalmaneser III of Assyria, in the mid-9th century b.c.e. Needless to say, these 9th-century b.c.e. memories were transmitted orally, until they were put into writing in the late 8th century.

A Full-Blown State: The Iron Age IIB (the Late 8th and Early 7th Centuries b.c.e.) Jerusalem of the 9th century was still limited to the City of David, and the countryside of Judah was relatively sparsely inhabited. There is no sign of settlement hierarchy, rise of an urban elite, scribal activity, and state-control over the agricultural output. This phase in the history of the southern highlands seems to have continued until at least the early 8th century b.c.e.––the approximate date of transition from the Iron IIA to the Iron IIB pottery assemblages. The “great leap forward” came in the second half of the 8th century, when, in a matter of several decades, Jerusalem and Judah were utterly revolutionized. Jerusalem expanded dramatically, to include the western hill––altogether an area of more than 60 hectares (e.g., Reich and Shukron 2003; Geva 2003). As a result, its population grew by a factor of ten. The city was surrounded by a massive city wall (Geva 2003: 510–16) and was equipped with a sophisticated water-system––the Siloam Tunnel. Elaborate rock-cut tombs, representing a growing class of affluent elite, appear for the first time (Ussishkin 1993; Barkay 2000). The same picture emerges from the Judahite countryside, where the number of settlements grew spectacularly and the settlement system became more complex; towns were fortifieda and public architecture became common; olive-oil production centers appeared; and, most important, signs of widespread writing and bureaucracy emerged for the first time. In short, Judah finally reached the stage of full-blown statehood ( Jamieson-Drake 1991; Finkelstein 1999). There were two reasons for this sudden, unprecedented growth of Jerusalem and Judah. The first is the incorporation of Judah into the Assyrian global economy, starting in the 730s. The strategic decision of King Ahaz to counter the military pressure of Israel and Damascus by cooperating with Assyria gave Judah an immense advantage, especially after Aram-Damascus and Israel had been taken over, and Judah remained the only semi-autonomous territorial kingdom west of the Jordan River. This time, its location was advantageous: it profited as a supplier of olive oil to Assyria (possibly before the establishment of the great Assyrian oil production

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center at Ekron) and as a major participant in the Assyrian-led Arabian trade, an important route of which passed through the Judahite Beer-sheba Valley. The second force behind the growth of Judah––and here I refer mainly to population growth––was the torrent of refugees that came to the south from vanquished Israel. Archaeological investigation shows that in the 8th century b.c.e. the population of Judah doubled, if not tripled. I refer to the growth from ca. 20 to about 275 sites in the Shephelah (Dagan 1992); from ca. 35 to about 120 sites in the highlands (Ofer 1994: 104–5), and the expansion of Jerusalem from 16 hectares (including the Temple Mount) to 60 hectares. It is impossible to explain this as a natural growth and hence the only source of people could have been Israelites from the Northern Kingdom (Broshi 1974; Finkelstein and Silberman 2006b). 1 Indeed, the results of the surveys that were conducted in Southern Samaria––the highlands territory of the Northern Kingdom immediately to the north of Judah––hint at a significant depletion in the number of sites and total built-up area after 720 b.c.e. (Finkelstein and Silberman 2006b). In the course of several decades in the late 8th century, Judah was completely transformed; it lost its traditional character as a tribal, homogenous, strictly Judahite society, probably dominated by the local, countryside clans, and was altered into a mixed Judahite–Israelite, more-urban kingdom. In fact, Judah of the late 8th century was the first pan-Israelite society—a sort of United Monarchy. There was an urgent need, therefore, to remake the Judahite society and identity, first and foremost to strengthen the power of the dynasty and the capital. This was especially important because most refugees that came to Jerusalem and Judah seem to have originated from the areas of the early northern Israelite entity of the House of Saul, including the vicinity of the northern temple of Bethel. They must have brought with them anti-Judahite sentiments and traditions regarding the founder of the Judahite dynasty and the Temple in Jerusalem. The Jerusalem elite embarked on a grand project of reshaping the kingdom and society by absorbing the northern population and its tradition but at the same time promoting its own story. The history of David’s rise and the succession history in 1–2 Samuel (see Rost 1982; von Rad 1966: 176–204; Keys 1996; de Pury and Römer 2000) were put in writing at that time, incorporating older, oral traditions and possibly some written Israelite materials that came from Bethel. The northern antiDavid traditions had not been eradicated but rather incorporated into the over-all Judahite story about the early days of the dynasty. They were subjected to the great apologia that cleared David from any accusation of wrong-doing (for the latter, see McCarter 1980; Halpern 2001). The House of David was placed in the center of the pan-Israelite identity, and hence the idea of a divine, unconditional promise to David probably originated from this phase in Judahite history. In parallel, the Jerusalem Temple was put in the center of the pan-Israelite cult tradition, in order to counter the Judahite countryside, clan-oriented shrines (which had been removed; 1. At least in Jerusalem, the expansion took place before the Sennacherib campaign of 701 and hence refugees from the destruction of the Judahite Shephelah could not have been the reason for the dramatic population growth (contra Naʾaman 2006). b.c.e.,

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for details, see Herzog 2002: 35, 40, 69–72; Ussishkin 2003b, contra Naʾaman 1995), and the Bethel temple, which continued to flourish under Assyrian domination on the northern border of Judah. Much of the biblical theology and ideology related to Jerusalem’s Temple and Dynasty must have therefore originated from this phase in the history of Judah (Finkelstein and Silberman 2006b). In light of all this, if there was no historical United Monarchy and glamorous Jerusalem in the 10th-century b.c.e., how can the biblical description of the Golden Age of King Solomon be explained? Solomon is described as the wisest and richest of all monarchs, a great builder, and an international merchant, whose commercial enterprises stretched from Tarshish to Sheba. This portrayal best fits the days of Assyrian domination in the Levant. Indeed, almost every item in the world of Solomon––from the visit of the Queen of Sheba through the relationship with King Hiram of Tyre, the trade expeditions from Etzion Geber in the south, the army of chariots and trading of horses to the building of Hazor, Megiddo, and Gezer—seems to reflect late-monarchic realities, either the situation in the Northern Kingdom in the 8th century or the world of Judah under Assyrian domination (Finkelstein and Silberman 2006a: 151–77; see already Knauf 1991). Solomon is therefore described as a great Assyrian monarch and a global king whose achievements surpassed those of the greatest kings of the Northern Kingdom. For literary reasons, this description of Solomon in 1 Kings 3–10 must have been compiled after the Succession History in 2 Samuel—that is, after the late 8th century b.c.e. This image of Solomon as a global merchant was turned into a negative lesson by the Deuteronomistic Historian, who argued (in 1 Kings 11) that internationalism and involvement in world affairs lead to apostasy and disaster. This seems to put the description of the great Solomon in the first half of the 7th century, in the days of King Manasseh, who ruled in Jerusalem for 55 years, when Judah was indeed incorporated into the Assyrian global trade. Fully cooperating with Assyria, Manasseh revived Judah from the disastrous outcome of Hezekiah’s revolt against Sennacherib in 701 b.c.e. The time of Manasseh, then, is the natural stage-setting for stories such as the visit of an Arabian queen to Jerusalem and trade expeditions sailing to lands afar from Etzion Geber––a place not inhabited before ca. 700 b.c.e. (Pratico 1993). Indeed, an intimate relationship can be traced between the image of Solomon in 1 Kings 3–10 and the days of Manasseh—in both realities and ideology (Finkelstein and Silberman 2006a: 151–79). The books of 1–2 Kings relate the construction of the Temple to King Solomon. In the light of what has just been said, one can ask if this description, too, is based on late-monarchic realities. As far as I can judge, the answer is negative. Of course, this cannot be proved archaeologically, and even if it were possible to excavate in the Temple Mount, I doubt that the small Iron Age Temple would have survived the immense construction effort that took place in the days of Herod the Great. Therefore, I would base my statement regarding the authenticity of this memory on two circumstantial arguments.

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The first is the simple fact that every dynastic capital in the Ancient Near East— from city-states in the Bronze Age to territorial kingdoms in the Iron Age––had at its core an elaborate palace and a temple, usually a royal, dynastic chapel—‫מקדש מלך‬. There is no reason to argue that Jerusalem was an exception. Second, the tradition that the Temple was built by Solomon is deeply rooted in the Bible. The Deuteronomistic historian seems to have collected the traditions, myths, tales, and memories of the people of Jerusalem and Judah in late-monarchic times. I cannot see a situation in which the Temple was actually built by, for example, Hezekiah, and that this was well-known to every person in 7th-century Jerusalem, but the Deuteronomistic historian argued, against this memory, claiming that it was Solomon who had built the Temple, more than two centuries before Hezekiah. Historiography, as well as the transmission of ideological messages, does not work this way. Needless to say, this does not mean that the Temple seen by Jeremiah and Ezekiel was exactly the same building constructed in the early days of the dynasty. The Deuteronomistic History itself provides reliable clues for renovation and construction efforts in the Temple compound over the course of several centuries.

Conclusion Returning to the question posed at the beginning of this article: how did a remote, poor region on the southern fringe of the Levant emerge as the hub of a prosperous kingdom with a large capital? The answer lies in the geopolitics of the Levant. Judah could prosper only as a client-state of bigger powers. Judah and Jerusalem thrived in periods of cooperation with strong northern entities that balanced their natural weaknesses: Hazael of Damascus in the second half of the 9th century; Assyria in the days of Ahaz and Manasseh––and, of course, Rome in the days of Herod the Great. In times when Judah was overtaken by fantasies of its own greatness, it was defeated and destroyed––from the days of Hezekiah who rebelled against Sennacherib, to the Babylonian and Roman catastrophes.

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Bunimovitz, S., and Lederman, Z. 2006 The Early Israelite Monarchy in the Sorek Valley: Tel Beth-Shemesh and Tel Batash (Timnah) in the 10th and 9th Centuries b.c.e. Pp. 407–27 in “I Will Speak the Riddles of Ancient Times”: Archaeological and Historical Studies in Honor of Amihai Mazar, ed. A. M. Maeir and P. de Miroschedji. Winona Lake: Eisenbrauns. Cahill, J. M. 2003 Jerusalem at the Time of the United Monarchy: The Archaeological Evidence. Pp. 13–80 in Jerusalem in Bible and Archaeology: The First Temple Period, ed. A. G. Vaughn and A. E. Killebrew. Atlanta: Society of Biblical Literature. Cogan, M. 2000 Royal City and Temple City: The History of Jerusalem from David to Josiah. Pp. 67–83 in The History of Jerusalem: The Biblical Period, ed. S. Ahituv and A. Mazar. Jerusalem: Yad Ben-Zvi. [Hebrew] Cross, F. M. 1973 Canaanite Myth and Hebrew Epic. Cambridge: Harvard University Press. Dagan, Y. 1992 The Shephelah During the Period of the Monarchy in Light of Archaeological Excavations and Surveys. Unpublished M.A. thesis, Tel Aviv University. [Hebrew] Edelman, D. 1985 The ‘Ashurites’ of Eshbaal’s State (2 Sam. 2.9). Palestine Exploration Quarterly 117: 85–91. Fantalkin, A., and Finkelstein, I. 2006 The Sheshonq I Campaign and the 8th Century Earthquake: More on the Archaeology and History of the South in the Iron I–Iron IIA. Tel Aviv 33: 18–42. Finkelstein, I. 1996 The Territorio-Political System of Canaan in the Late Bronze Age. Ugarit-For­ schungen 28 : 221–55. 1999 State Formation in Israel and Judah, A Contrast in Context, A Contrast in Trajectory. Near Eastern Archaeology 62/1: 35–52. 2001 The Rise of Jerusalem and Judah: The Missing Link. Levant 33: 105–15. 2002 The Campaign of Shoshenq I to Palestine: A Guide to the 10th Century b.c.e. Polity. Zeitschrift des Deutschen Palästina-Vereins 118: 109–35. 2003 City States and States: Polity Dynamics in the 10th–9th Centuries b.c.e. Pp. 75–83 in Symbiosis, Symbolism and the Power of the Past: Canaan, Ancient Israel, and Their Neighbors from the Late Bronze Age through Roman Palestina, ed. W. G. Dever and S. Gitin. Winona Lake, IN: Eisenbrauns. 2006 The Last Labayu: King Saul and the Expansion of the First North Israelite Territorial Entity. Pp. 171–77 in Essays on Ancient Israel in its Near Eastern Context: A Tribute to Nadav Naʾaman, ed. Y. Amit, E. Ben Zvi, I. Finkelstein, and O. Lipschits. Winona Lake, IN: Eisenbrauns. Finkelstein, I., Herzog, Z., Singer-Avitz, L., and Ussishkin, D. 2007 Has the Palace of King David Been Found in Jerusalem? Tel Aviv 34: 142–64. Finkelstein, I., and Piasetzky, E. 2003 Recent Radiocarbon Results and King Solomon. Antiquity 77: 771–79. Finkelstein, I., and Silberman, N.A. 2006a David and Solomon: In Search of the Bible’s Sacred Kings and the Roots of the Western Tradition. New York: Free Press. 2006b Temple and Dynasty: Hezekiah, the Remaking of Judah and the Rise of the PanIsraelite Ideology. Journal for the Study of the Old Testament 30: 259–85. Garbini, G. 1988 History and Ideology in Ancient Israel. New York: Crossroad.

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Geva, H. 2003 Summary and Discussion of Findings from Areas A, W and X-2. Pp. 501–52 in Jewish Quarter Excavations in the Old City of Jerusalem II, ed. H. Geva. Jerusalem: Israel Exploration Society. Halpern, B. 2001 David’s Secret Demons: Messiah, Murderer, Traitor, King. Grand Rapids: Eerdmans. Halpern, B., and Vanderhooft, D. 1991 The Editions of Kings in the 7th–6th Centuries b.c.e. Hebrew Union College Annual 62: 179–244. Herzog, Z. 2002 The Fortress Mound at Tel Arad: An Interim Report. Tel Aviv 29: 3–109. Herzog, Z., and Singer-Avitz, L. 2004 Redefining the Center: The Emergence of the State in Judah. Tel Aviv 31: 209–44. Jamieson-Drake, D. W. 1991 Scribes and Schools in Monarchic Judah. Sheffield: Almond. Kenyon, K.M. 1974 Digging Up Jerusalem. New York: Praeger. Keys, G. 1996 The Wages of Sin: A Reappraisal of the “Succession Narrative.” Sheffield: Sheffield Academic Press. Kitchen, K. A. 1986 The Third Intermediate Period in Egypt (1100-650 b.c.). Warminster: Aris & Phillips. Knauf, E. A. 1991 King Solomon’s Copper Supply. Pp. 167–86 in Phoenicia and the Bible, ed. E. Li­piń­ ski. Leuven: Dep. Orientalistiek. Lehmann, G. 2003 The United Monarchy in the Countryside: Jerusalem, Judah and the Shephelah during the Tenth Century b.c.e. Pp. 117–62 in Jerusalem in Bible and Archaeology: The First Temple Period, ed. A. G. Vaughn and A. E. Killebrew. Atlanta: Society of Biblical Literature. Maeir, A. M. 2004 The Historical Background and Dating of Amos VI 2: An Archaeological Perspective from Tell es-Ṣafi/Gath. Vetus Testamentum 54: 319–34. Mazar, A. 2006 Jerusalem in the 10th Century b.c.e.: The Glass Half Full. Pp. 255–72 in Essays on Ancient Israel in its Near Eastern Context: A Tribute to Nadav Naʾaman, ed. Y. Amit, E. Ben Zvi, I. Finkelstein, and O. Lipschits. Winona Lake, IN: Eisenbrauns. Mazar, E. 2007 Preliminary Report on the City of David Excavations 2005 at the Visitors Center Area. Jerusalem: Shalem. McCarter, K. P. 1980 The Apology of David. Journal of Biblical Literature 99: 489–504. Miller, M. J. 1997 Separating the Solomon of History from the Solomon of Legend. Pp. 1–24 in The Age of Solomon: Scholarship in the Turn of the Millennium, ed. L. Handy. Leiden: Brill. Naʾaman, N. 1990 The Kingdom of Ishbaal. Biblische Notizen 54: 33–37. 1995 The Debated Historicity of Hezekiah’s Reform in the Light of Historical and Archaeological Research. Zeitschrift für Alttestamentliche Wissenschaft 107: 179–95. 1996 Contribution of the Amarna Letters to the Debate on Jerusalem’s Political Position in the Tenth Century b.c.e. Bulletin of the American Schools of Oriental Research 304: 17–27.

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2002 In Search of Reality Behind the Account of David’s Wars with Israel’s Neighbours. Israel Exploration Journal 52: 200–224. 2006 The Rise of Jerusalem as the Kingdom of Judah’s Premier City in the 8th–7th Centuries b.c.e.. Zion 71: 411–56. [Hebrew] Nelson, R. D. 1981 The Double Redaction of the Deuteronomistic History. Sheffield: JSOT Press. Niemann, H. M. 1997 The Socio-Political Shadow Cast by the Biblical Solomon. Pp. 252–99 in The Age of Solomon: Scholarship at the Turn of the Millennium, ed. L. K. Handy. Leiden: Brill. Ofer, A. 1994 “All the Hill Country of Judah”: From a Settlement Fringe to a Prosperous Monarchy. Pp. 92–121 in From Nomadism to Monarchy: Archaeological and Historical Aspects of Early Israel, ed. I. Finkelstein and N. Naʾaman. Jerusalem: Yad Ben-Zvi. Pratico, G. D. 1993 Nelson Glueck’s 1938–1940 Excavations at Tell el-Kheleifeh: A Reappraisal. Atlanta: Scholars Press. Pury, A. de, and Römer, T., eds. 2000 Die Sogenannte Thronfolgegeschichte Davids: neue Einsichten und Anfragen. Fri­bourg: Universitätsverlag. Redford, D. B. 1992 Egypt, Canaan and Israel in Ancient Times. Princeton: Princeton University. Reich, R., and Shukron, E. 2003 The Urban Development of Jerusalem in the Late Eight Century b.c.e. Pp. 209–18 in Jerusalem in Bible and Archaeology: The First Temple Period, ed. A. G. Vaughn and A. E. Killebrew. Atlanta: Society of Biblical Literature. 2006 The Excavation of the “Rock-cut Pool” near the Gihon Spring, Jerusalem. Pp. 17– 21 in New Studies on Jerusalem II, ed. E. Baruch, Z. Greenhut, and A. Faust. Ramat Gan: Bar-Ilan University. Renz, J. 1995 Die Althebräischen Inschriften, Teil 1: Text und Kommentar. Darmstadt: Wissenschaftliche Buchgesellschaft. Rowton, M. B. 1973 Urban Autonomy in a Nomadic Environment. Journal of Near Eastern Studies 32: 201–15. 1976 Dimorphic Structure and the Tribal Elite. Pp. 219–57 in Al-Bahit: Festschrift Joseph Henninger. Studia Instituti Anthropos 28. St. Augustin bei Bonn. Rost, L. 1982 The Succession to the Throne of David. Sheffield: The Almond Press. Published originally in German in 1926, Die Überlieferung von derThonnachfolge Davids. Schniedewind, W. M. 1998 The Geopolitical History of Philistine Gath. Bulletin of the American Schools of Oriental Research 309: 69–77. 2004 How the Bible Became a Book. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Sharon, I., Gilboa, A., Jull, T. A. J., and Boaretto, E. 2007 Report on the First Stage of the Iron Age Dating Project in Israel: Supporting A Low Chronology. Radiocarbon 49: 1–46. Shiloh, Y. 1984 Excavations at the City of David. Qedem 19. Jerusalem: The Hebrew University, the Institute of Archaeology.

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Shortland, A. J. 2005 Shishak, King of Egypt: The Challenges of Egyptian Calendrical Chronology. Pp. 43–54 in The Bible and Radiocarbon Dating: Archaeology, Text and Science, ed. T. E. Levy and T. Higham. London: Equinox. Stager, L. E. 2003 The Patrimonial Kingdom of Solomon. Pp. 63–74 in Symbiosis, Symbolism, and the Power of the Past: Canaan, Ancient Israel, and Their Neighbors from the Late Bronze Age through Roman Palestina, ed. W. G. Dever and S. Gitin. Winona Lake, IN: Eisenbrauns. Steiner, M. 1994 Re-dating the Terraces of Jerusalem. Israel Exploration Journal 44: 13–20. 2003 The Evidence from Kenyon’s Excavations in Jerusalem: A Response Essay. Pp. 347– 64 in Jerusalem in Bible and Archaeology: The First Temple Period, ed. A. G. Vaughn and A. E. Killebrew. Atlanta: Society of Biblical Literature. Ussishkin, D. 1993 The Village of Silwan: The Necropolis from the Period of the Judean Kingdom. Jerusalem: Israel Exploration Society. 2003a Solomon’s Jerusalem: The Text and the Facts on the Ground. Pp. 103–15 in Jerusalem in Bible and Archaeology The First Temple Period, ed. A. G. Vaughn and A. E. Killebrew. Atlanta: Society of Biblical Literature. 2003b The Level V “Sanctuary” and “High Place” at Lachish. Pp. 205–11 in Saxa Loquentur Studien zur Archäologie Palästinas/Israels: Festschrift für Volkmar Fritz, ed. C. G. den Hertog, U. Hübner, and S. Münger. Münster: Ugarit-Verlag. 2004 The Renewed Archaeological Excavations at Lachish (1973–1994). Tel Aviv: Institute of Archaeology, Tel Aviv University. Uziel, J., and Maeir, A. 2005 Scratching the Surface of Gath: Implications of the Tell es-Ṣafi/Gath Surface Survey. Tel Aviv 32: 50–75. Van Seters, J. 1983 In Search of History: Historiography in the Ancient World and the Origins of Biblical History. New Haven: Yale University Press; repr., Winona Lake, IN: Eisenbrauns, 1997. Von Rad, G. 1966 The Problem of the Hexateuch and Other Essays. Edinburgh: Oliver & Boyd. Published originally in German in 1944 in the Archiv für Kulturgeschichte 32: 1–42. Wente, E. F. 1976 Review of K. A. Kitchen, The Third Intermediate Period in Egypt. Journal of Near Eastern Studies 35: 275–78.

The Location of the Second Temple and the Layout of its Courts, Gates, and Chambers: A New Proposal Joseph Patrich

Hebrew University of Jerusalem

The Location The exact location of the temple on the Temple Mount is still an unresolved riddle. Many suggestions have been put forward pertaining to this issue (Bagatti 1965; Busink 1970; Jacobson 1980; Ritmeyer 2006 1). Most scholars located it on the upper platform of the Temple Mount on which the Dome of the Rock is located today, and opinions vary whether the Muslim rock marks the site of the Holy of Holies 2 or the altar. 3 Some set the rock to the north of the temple (Ferguson 1878; see Ritmeyer 2006: 147) 4 or to its southeast (de Vogüé: 1864; Ritmeyer 2006: 149–51). As for its orientation, almost all scholars maintained that its longitudinal axis was perpendicular to the eastern wall (which is inclined 6.18° west relative to the north). 5 Hollis (1934: 122–39, pl. X; and see Ritmeyer 2006: 159–60) claimed that the Second Temple faced east and that the eastern side of the present upper platform, running north–south, keeps this absolute primitive axiality, 6 and so does 1.  Ritmeyer 2006 is an elaboration of his unpublished Ph.D. dissertation: The Architectural Development of the Temple Mount in Jerusalem (The University of Manchester 1992) and several other studies; see n. 2. He had examined 13 different proposals, in addition to his own. The earliest was that of de Vogüé 1864, and the latest Jacobson 1990–91: 36. Busink’s proposal (1980: 832, fig. 200; 1179, fig. 253; and 1540, fig. 343) was not included in Ritmeyer’s survey. 2.  Thus Conder (1884), Watson (1896), Hollis (1934). See references to them in Ritmeyer 2006: 153–54, 155–66, 159–60, respectively. See also Ritmeyer 1992: 24–45, 64–65; 1996. More recently, Qoren 2007 has shared this traditional view as well. 3.  Thus Schick (1896), Mommert (1903), Dalman (1909, 1935), Vincent (1954, 1956). See references to them in Ritmeyer 2006: 154–55, 156–57, 158–59, 161–62, respectively. 4.  Warren located the temple’s sanctuary to the south of the Rock (Ritmeyer 2006: 151–52), as did Bagatti (1979: 11–32) and Vogt (1974: 23–64). The proposals of the latter two were not discussed by Ritmeyer. 5.  See: E. F. Reidinger 2004: 40. I am indebted to Ronny Reich for bringing this study to my attention. 6. In m. Sukkah 5:4 there is a description of two priests blowing the trumpets, after passing through the Women’s Court: “They went on until they reached the gate that lead out to the east. When they reached the gate that leads out to the east, they turned their faces to the west and said ‘Our fathers when they were in this place turned with their backs toward the Temple of the Lord and their faces toward the east, and they worshipped the sun toward the east (Ezekiel 8:16); but as for us, our eyes are turned toward the Lord’” (and parallels in y. Sukkah 54d-55a; b. Sukkah 51b). Hollis maintained that this account is an indication of the rejection of an earlier solar cult. As for Solomon’s temple, he had oriented it perpendicular to the eastern wall of the Herodian precinct,

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Qoren, more recently. 7 Busink placed the temple in the northern part of the upper platform, shifted north relative to the rock, so that the temple axis, set perpendicular to the eastern wall, ran through the Kiponus Gate on the west and the Shushan Gate, mentioned in m. Mid. 1:3 on the east (Busink 1980). Among the more recent proposals, that of Kaufman is exceptional. He places the temple and its courts in the northern part of the Herodian compound, on the upper platform and beyond, so that the Dome of the Winds of that platform, located to the northwest relative to the rock, marks, according to him, the site of the Holy of Holies. He maintains that the complex of the temple and courts is wedge-shaped, narrower on the western side, and that the axis of the complex does not run perpendicular to the eastern wall but slants slightly south, pointing toward the Dome of the Ascension on the Mount of Olives (Kaufman 2004). 8 According to D. Jacobson, following a geometrical analysis of the Herodian complex, the rock (which, he acknowledges, was hidden from sight in the Second Temple period (see below, n. 10), marks the center of the sanctuary, and not the Holy of Holies; and the Dome of the Chain marks the site of the altar ( Jacobson 1990–91: 36). 9 Ritmeyer, who dedicated a thorough study to this topic, claimed that the rock marks the Holy of Holies and set the temple perpendicular to the eastern wall (Ritmeyer: 2006: 242–278; 1996; 1992: 24–45, 64–65). Of course, whoever suggests that the rock was not included within the temple, or under the altar, maintains that in the Second Temple period its elevation was below the floor level of the Priestly Court. And indeed, while the altitude of the lower platform of the Haram al-Sharif adjacent to the upper platform (738 m a.s.l.) is in accordance with the level of the base of the Herodian pilaster as preserved near the northern end of the western wall, the top altitude of the Rock is 743.7 m, that is, 1.3–1.5 m below the level of the upper court of the Herodian Temple (depending on the length of the cubit in use), according to the relative levels given by Josephus Flavius and in the Mishnah. 10 The floor level of the temple itself, comprising the Porch, the Sanctuary, and the Holy of Holies, was six cubits higher. along a line that connects the Dome of the Rock and the summit of Mt. Olives—that is, slightly north of due east. 7.  Thus in his model of the Second Temple (on display in the Western Wall Tunnel and more recently in his book; above, n. 2). 8.  Kaufman is relying on Ezek 8:16 when orienting his temple to the Mount of Olives. In his map, the southern side of cistern 5 (see below) marks the line of the southern wall of the trapezoidal Temple Mount. 9.  In his analysis, Jacobson suggests that the line of the northern wall of the Temple Mount passed across Birket Israil. There is nothing in the archaeological data to sustain this hypothesis. The proposals of Kaufman and Jacobson are also among those examined by Ritmeyer 2006. 10. The differences of elevations were already noted by Barclay (1858: 242), as well as by Busink (1970: 13) and Bagatti (1979: 19–20), and following them, Jacobson (1990–91: 59), who had suggested that this situation was changed under Hadrian, when the structure and the entire temple platform became a quarry. The Bordeaux pilgrim saw there a pierced stone (lapis pertusus), which he said the Jews come and anoint each year. This was apparently the present rock. See also Gibson and Jacobson 1996: 288. The variance of elevations can be also deduced from the data provided by M. Ben-Dov 1985: 98–101, based on the top elevation of Robinson’s Arch and on the elevation of the aqueduct in the Jewish quarter. (In the Hebrew edition, p. 93, he gives different arguments, yet the convention that the floor level of the Holy of Holies was much higher than

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Fig. 1.  Cistern no. 5 (Gibson and Jacobson 1996: 137).

The point of departure of the new proposal is the daily liturgy. According to the Mishnah, describing the first actions of the priest who was elected to serve the altar that day—cleaning it of the cinders (deshen) using a silver shovel or fire-pan (following Qoh 6:3). This took place not long after the cock’s crow (m. Tamid 1:2), when it was still dark outside: He whose lot it was to clear the Altar of ashes went to clear the Altar of ashes, while they said to him, “Take heed that thou touch not the vessel before thou hast sanctified thy hands and feet in the laver; and lo, the fire pan lies in the corner between the Ramp and the Altar, on the western side of the Ramp.” None went in with him and he carried no lamp, but he walked in the light of the Altar fire. They neither saw him nor heard sound of him until they heard the noise of the wooden device [muchni/mechane] which Ben Katin had made for the laver; and then they said, “The time is come!” He sanctified his hands and feet at the laver, took the silver fire pan and went up to the top of the Altar and cleared away the cinders to this side and to that, and scooped up the innermost burnt [cinders] and came down again (m. Tamid 1:4–2:1). 11

In m. Yoma 3:10, we hear more: Ben Katin made twelve stop-cocks for the laver which before had but two; and he also made a [mechanical] device [Muchni/Mechane] for the laver that its water should not be rendered unfit by remaining overnight.

the present elevation of the Muslim rock prevails in both versions.) In contrast, Ritmeyer (2006: 277; 1996) presents the top of the rock projecting slightly above the level of the Holy of Holies. He maintains that this was the stone called Shetiyah, which “was higher than the ground by three fingerbreadths” (m.Yoma 5:2). But the fact is that during the temple period the rock was buried deep below the level of the Priestly Court. 11.  All passages cited from the Mishnah follow the English translation of H. Danby, The Mishnah (London: Oxford University Press, 1933). My comments or clarifications have been added in square brackets.

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Fig. 2a.  The temple location in the precinct: map. Figs. 2–5  were drawn by L. Ritmeyer according to the instructions of the author.

The Laver was, thus, a huge basin, ca. 3 m in diameter, permitting 12 priests to wash their hands and feet simultaneously. According to m. Mid. 3:6, “The laver stood between the Porch and the Altar, towards the south,” i.e., between the porch and the altar’s ramp. 12 12. The Mishkan laver also served the priests for washing their hands and feet (Exod 30:18–21; 40:31–32). In Solomon’s temple, the Molten Sea served the priests for washing (1 Kgs 7:23–26, 2 Chr 4:1–6). It was located in a similar position relative to the temple. It was a huge bowl-shaped basin, made of brass, 10 cubits in diameter and 5 cubits high, decorated in relief on the outside. It stood on 12 oxen, arranged in 4 groups of 3, oriented to the 4 points of the compass. It weighed ca. 30 tons. According to Kings, its capacity was 2,000 baths, equivalent to 44,000 liters. According to Chronicles, the capacity was 3,000 baths, equivalent to 66,000 liters. In contrast to the mechane that served the Second Temple laver, it is not said how this lofty Sea got its water. Its large dimensions prevented getting to its rim without the help of a ladder or of some other climbing device; it was also too deep to immerse in. It is possible that it was equipped with some kind of faucet that permitted controlled flow of water from beneath, but this detail is not mentioned in the Bible. In Ezekiel’s temple, no Sea is mentioned (Yadin 1956: 185; Yeivin 1968: 341–43; Horowitz 2000:

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Fig. 2b.  The temple location in the precinct: reconstruction.

Muchni / Mechane is a Greek term (μεχανή), denoting in the present context a wooden lifting device by means of which fresh water was provided to the laver; 13 the wooden sound mentioned in m. Tamid 4:1 was the sound of the revolving wheel. This is a common term in Greek literary sources, including the papyri, to denote a geared water-wheel (Oleson 1984: 11, 94, 127, 130, 132–40, 290, 327, 358, 368, 380; Humphrey, Oleson, and Sherwood 1998: 309–22; Landels, 1978: 63–66, 68–70; Schiøler 1973). 14 According to Oleson, this geared technology, appropriate 150–52; Herzog 2000: 164–65; Busink 1970: 326–52; Vincent and Steve 1956: 414–23; Parrot 1957: 45–47). 13. The rabbinic commentators (R. Ovadiah of Bartinoro; Tosafot Yom Tov of R. Yom Tov Lipmann-Heler; Tiferet Israel of R. Israel Lifschitz), as well as H. Albeck, interpreted it as a wheel by which the lever was lowered down into an adjacent cistern. See a reconstruction drawing in Ariel 2005: 68. Steinsaltz renders it as: “machine, wheel, or lever.” 14.  However, the exact device to which this term refers in the literary sources, or in the papyri, is not always clear. It seems that the mechane that fed the Second Temple laver operated a water wheel of the bucket-chain type (Oleson 1984: fig. 23; Humphrey, Oleson, and Sherwood 1998: 312, fig. 15) or of the pot-garland device (Oleson 1984: fig. 9), appropriate for deep lifting. Such a term does not refer to a sucking pump of the box-pump type, described in chap. 64 of Philon’s Pneumatika (Oleson 1984: 73–75, 301–25, and figs. 19–21), which was operated by an upper tooth wheel. It is doubtful if such a pump could lift water from a depth of 15 m. A pushing pump, set in the water (to be differentiated from a sucking pump, operated by atmospheric pressure), first invented by Ktesibius of Alexandria (mid-3rd century b.c.e.), apparently should also be dismissed. Similarly, it is doubtful whether the Mishnah refers to an Archimedes Screw (Oleson 1984: 291– 301), which is unfit for deep lifting. The words ὑδατῶν μεχανῆ are mentioned in a Greek inscription found in the Negev, denoting a hydraulic apparatus attached to a water-carrying system (Schwabe 1950–51: 52; Lifshitz 1963: 255–57, pl. 12; Di Segni 2002: 63).

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for vertical lifting and known in Arabic as sakiya, was a 2nd-century b.c.e. invention (Oleson 1984: 378). 15 According to the Mishnah, three more water wheels were used in the temple: “The Gullah cistern was there [in the Gullah Chamber], and a wheel was set over it, and from thence they drew water enough for the whole Temple Court (m. Mid. 5:4); and in m. ʿErub. 10:14 we read: “they may draw water with a wheel on the Sabbath from the [Gullah] Cistern and from the Great Cistern, and from the Hakar Well on a Festival-day.” The drawing of water by wheels of the sakiya type was by means of pairs of clay vessels fastened to two ropes that hung on a vertical wheel. These vessels were let down empty into the cistern and came up filled with water. The ropes revolved in a shaft that could have been rectangular or cylindrical; its dimensions were in accordance with the width and the diameter of the wheel set above. The drawing wheel was geared to a second one, either horizontal or vertical, operated by human or animal power. This gear was the mechanism that gave its name to the entire device (Oleson 1984). The text of m. Tamid 1:4 cited above permits us to conclude that the mechane feeding the laver could have been operated by a single priest and that a water cistern was located near the laver. Our proposal is that the cistern that fed the laver is cistern 5 on Wilson’s map of 1876 in his Ordnance Survey (Sheet 1). 16 It is a huge cistern, 15 m deep, and of a unique layout. It was very diligently cut: all walls are perpendicular or parallel to each other. The main gallery, shaped like a corridor, is 54.5 m long and 4.6 m wide. On the eastern end, two perpendicular arms (9 m long and 3.5–4 m wide) project to the north. The more eastern of the two also extends 18 m southward. On the western end, another arm, 17 m long, narrower, and of an irregular shape, extends to the south. This looks like a natural fissure in the geological limestone formation of the Temple Mount rock. A narrow, well-cut staircase 5 feet (ca. 1.5m) wide descends down into the main corridor from the east and then turns right along the eastern wall of the northeast arm, becoming ca. 7 feet (i.e., ca. 2.1 m) wide. According to our proposal, the altar ramp was located near the eastern end of the cistern, in the area 11 m wide separating the two arms of the cistern extending to the north. The ramp, 16 cubits broad and 32 cubits long (m. Mid. 3:3), 17 could eas15. Philon of Byzantion, writing in the 3rd century b.c.e, did not mention it. A mural of a geared lifting device of the sakiya type in a 2nd-century b.c.e. tomb in the Wardian quarter of Alexandria corroborates this date (Vent 1989: 219–22). 16.  This is cistern no. 28 in Gibson and Jacobson 1996: 288. Unfortunately, it is impossible at present to descend into the cistern and explore it. 17. Opinions vary about the length of the cubit that was in use in the construction of the temple. In m. Kelim 17:9, a long, medium, and short cubit is mentioned, which differed by hand digit from one another. The following lengths have been proposed, respectively (Ben-David 1969: 159–69; 1978: 27–28): 56 cm = the long/“building”/Jerusalem cubit; 52.5 cm = the medium/ Egyptian/“Desert”/“Moses” cubit. This is the formal Pergamene-Roman cubit, current in the East since 129 b.c.e. It had reached Pergamon from Egypt, and went hence to Rome; 46.5 cm = the short/“Vessels” cubit. Jacobson (1990–91: 47, 61 n. 2) opted for a size very close to this—46.4 cm— because he found harmony (2 cubits = 3 imperial feet) between such a cubit and the 30.9-cm-long foot in use by Herod when constructing the Royal Stoa (according to Grafman 1970: 60–66) and its half is close to the rise of the Herodian stairs in front of the Double Gate. Peleg (unpublished

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ily fit into this area. According to the information at hand, there is a stone ceiling above the southern end of the southeastern arm, while most of the ceiling is plastered, suggesting masonry, rather than a rock-cut ceiling (Wilson 1866: 43; Schick 1896: 293–304, pl. IX; Gibson and Jacobson 1996: 135–40, fig. 65). 18 The cistern, when cut, was thus open to the sky, so that a water-wheel or several wheels could have been set in a line along the main corridor or in the perpendicular extending arms. A rock-cut ceiling would not have permitted the operation of any water wheel above. The location of the laver between the temple Porch and the altar ramp indicates that its water-wheel was set above the arm that delineated the ramp on its west. If several wheels had been set also along the main gallery and in all the arms extending from it, one could get an enormous flush of water for washing the court, especially the House of Slaughtering, if the wheels were operated simultaneously. On Passover, when there were many individual and public offerings, the court was washed down by the priests not only on each working day of the holy day but on the Sabbath as well (m. Pesah. 5:8). It is reasonable to assume that it was flushed regularly also throughout the year, perhaps daily but at least once a week, perhaps on the eve of Sabbath, when the altar was also washed with a cloth, because of the blood (m. Mid. 3:4). The washing could have been done by buckets filled with water, but using a flush of water emerging from a wheel seems to have been much more efficient. 19 Not only the court’s floor had to be washed regularly; the channel M.A. thesis, Bar Ilan University 2003; not seen) opted for the “building cubit,” 56 cm long according to Ben-David (1969). See also Peleg’s review article on Kaufman 2004 (Peleg 2005: 157–63). Kaufman (1984: 120–32; 2004: 4, 40) concluded that the cubit in use in the construction of the Second Temple was 43.7 cm long. On this issue, see also: Hollis 1934: 349; Simons 1952: 406 n. 1; Scott 1958: 205–14; 1959: 22–41; Jeremias 1969: 11–12 n. 20. Simons (1952) adhered to the Philetairan cubits of Pergamon, 52.5 cm long. Busink (1980: 1068) posited a 46-cm-long cubit. Qoren (2007: 84, 136–43) suggested a cubit 57.4 cm long. The reconstruction presented here (fig. 2) has adopted a cubit 52.5 cm long—the medium/Pergamene-Roman cubit. According to Ritmeyer, this cubit is to be recognized in the 500 × 500-cubit square, the remains of which he had traced. According to the 52.5-cm-long cubit, the altar ramp was 8.40 m wide—narrower than the interval between the two northern arms of the cistern. According to a 56-cm-long cubit, it would have been 8.96 m wide. In this case as well, the ramp could easily fit into that area. It is noteworthy that in the construction of the Nabatean temple of Qasr al-Bint at Petra, almost contemporary with the Herodian temple in Jerusalem, the 52.5-cm-long cubit was applied. Zayadine, Larché, and Dentzer-Feydy 2003: 77–79. 18.  According to Wilson, this arm had a rocky ceiling; however, Gibson and Jacobson mark only the southern end of this arm (no. 7 in their fig. 65) as having a rocky ceiling. If the entire ceiling would have been stone, it would have been unnecessary to cover it with plaster. Since most of the cistern has a plastered ceiling, we can conclude that it is of masonry. 19.  It is not said that the water of the aqueduct coming from Eitam served this purpose. And indeed, the aqueduct, which reached the Temple Mount on top of the bridge on the site of Wilson’s arch, encircled Mt. Zion on the south at an elevation of 735 m a.s.l. (A. Mazar 2002: 221); it could not feed the cisterns on the upper platform of Haram al-Sharif or on the Second Temple court level, which was still higher. It fed cistern no. 8 on Wilson’s map (cistern no. 3 in Gibson and Jacobson 1996: 33–41), on the southern side of the Temple Mount. The top elevation of cistern 8, according to Gibson and Jacobson, is 734.9 m; it is ca. 1.5 m lower than the floor level of the Haram at that place. This aqueduct was apparently constructed under John Hyrcanus or Alexander Jannaeus (Patrich 1981: 25–39; A. Mazar 2002: 217–23, 230–38). The Amorite sages were of the opinion that the water of Eitam fed the Sea of Solomon’s Temple (y. Yoma 41a 3:8), as well as the miqvaʾot on top of the Water Gate and Parwah Chamber, in which the high priest used to immerse on the Day of Atonement during the Second Temple period (b. Yoma 31a). But this would have

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draining the offering-blood under the foundation of the altar to the Kidron brook (m. Yoma 5:6; m. Mid. 3:2) had to be flushed as well. In this connection, the description of the temple and its rite in the Letter of Aristeas 88–90 is instructive: 20 The whole foundation was decked with (precious) stones and had slopes leading to the appropriate places for carrying the water which is (needed) for the cleansing of the blood from the sacrifices. (Many thousands of animals are brought there in the festival days). There is an uninterrupted supply not only of water, just as if there were a plentiful spring rising naturally from within, 21 but also of indescribably wonderful underground reservoirs, which within a radius of five stadia from the foundation of the Temple revealed innumerable channels for each of them, the streams joining together on each side. . . . There were many mouths at the base (of the altar), which were completely invisible except for those responsible for the ministry, so that the large amounts of blood which collected from the sacrifices were all cleansed by the downward pressure and momentum. (trans. R. J. H. Shutt)

To the best of my knowledge, such an elaborate system of water supply, cleansing and draining a temple precinct, is unique in antiquity. In the Hellenistic temples of Hermoupolis (Ashmonein) and Kom Umbo in Middle Egypt, shafts serving lifting devices of the sakiya type were identified, but they fed water pools where the sacred crocodiles of the god Sebek (in Kom Umbo) or the sacred ibises of the god Thot (in Hermoupolis) were fed and resting (Badawy 1956: 140–54). 22 In the Temple of Bel in Palmyra, near the altar there was a purification water basin. A mechanism of the kind we posit for Jerusalem was not installed there. Cisterns and wells are known in other sacred precincts, but not such an elaborate system as the one in use in the Jewish temple in Jerusalem. Other than in agriculture, water wheels of the sakiya type were also used in bath houses. 23 been impossible in light of the difference in elevations indicated above. There is no reference in the Mishnah to corroborate these Amoritic claims (I was not aware of this point when I wrote my above-mentioned article). It seems that rain water collected from the roofs fed these miqvaʾot. 20.  Opinions vary about the date of this letter. For a detailed survey, see Schürer 1986: 677–87. Following a thorough presentation of various opinions, the authors opt for a 2nd century b.c.e. date, earlier than 170 b.c.e. (Schürer 1986: 684). This date was first suggested by Orlinski (1952: 201–5) and, following him, Jellicoe (1968: 48 n. 1). R. J. H. Shutt (1985: 9) is also in favor of this date (the citation from the Letter of Aristeas given here is taken from this translation, pp. 18–19). Accordingly, Stern (1981: 9–19, 98–105, 124, 138, 140–41) refers to this source in his chapter dealing with the pre-Hasmonean period. Rappaport (1970: 37–50) was of the opinion that the treatise should be dated to the end of the 3rd century b.c.e., the end of the Ptolemaic regime in the Land of Israel. Bar-Kochva (1996: 271–92) is of the opinion that it should be dated between the years 116 (or 118) and 113 b.c.e. 21.  The reference to this natural spring of abundant water is apparently inspired by Ezek 47:1– 5. Such is also the case with the final paragraph of m. Mid. 2:6, speaking of the Water Gate and citing R. Eliezer ben Yaaqov saying: “Through it the water trickles forth, and hereafter they will issue out from under the threshold of the House.” 22.  A similar well also existed in the temple at Edfu. 23.  For examples of water-wheels of bucket-chain and pot-garland devices, see Oleson 1984: 174–80 and the alphabetical site catalogue that follows. Bucket-chain without a gear is a lifting wheel with both upper and lower wheels, described by the Hellenistic engineer of the late 3rd century b.c.e. Philon of Byzantium in his work Pneumatica, chap. 65 (a composition preserved only in Arabic), or an upper wheel with bronze or wooden compartments hanging on chains, described by Vitruvius, De Architectura X.4.4 (Oleson 1984: 75–79 and figs. 23, 33, 44). Some were operated by treading on the wheel (tread type; for a reconstruction, without a gear, see Oleson 1984: fig. 29)

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Since it is agreed that the altar and the temple had parallel axiality and their location relative to each other is given in the Mishnah, by fixing the axiality and location of the ramp and the altar as proposed above, the axiality and location of the temple is actually determined. Thus, the longitudinal axis of cistern 5 (9.7° south of east) preserves the original orientation of the temple. This orientation is at variance with the prevailing opinion, according to which the axis of the temple ran perpendicular to the eastern wall of the Temple Mount—namely, forming an angle of 6.18° north of east (Reidinger 2004: 40). This orientation can be considered to be east no less than the prevailing one and is in accord with the literary sources, according to which the temple faced the rising sun. 24 Of course, the temple preceded the eastern wall of the Temple Mount. The proposed location and orientation is perpendicular to the bedrock altitude contours in this part of the hill (Kümmel 1904; Vincent and Steve 1956; Planche, Pearce, and Hubbard 1966: 130–54), so it is topographically reasonable. A location slightly below the summit fits a threshing floor such as the threshing floor of Ornan the Jebusite (2 Sam 24:16–24; 1 Chr 21:15–28; 2 Chr 3:1). The Second Temple was erected on the foundations of the First Temple, as was the altar (Ezra 3:2–6; 5:16; 6:7–8). 25 “The Temple Mount measured five hundred cubits by five hundred cubits” (m. Mid. 2:1). This could have been a literal formula, in accord with the LXX of Ezek 42:20 (and 45:2). The Temple Scroll gives the external dimensions of the inner court to be 294 × 294 cubits and of the middle court (the equivalent of the Temple Mount of the Mishnah) 500 × 500 cubits as well. According to Josephus Flavius, Ant. 15.11.3, 400, the circumference of the upper court around the Temple was 4 stades, 1 stade in each direction of the compass. This square reflects the building project of Simeon the Just; it was delineated by the soreg; and the larger square 500 and others, more elaborate, were geared. Such a technology appeared, as mentioned above (n. 14), only in the mid 2nd century b.c.e. Sites with a trod-type device include: Pompeii—the Stabian Bath, the Forum Bath, the Republican Bath, Casa del Cambio, all dated to the 2nd and 1st century b.c.e. (Oleson 1984: figs. 102–9); Ostia—Terme dela Trinacria, 2nd–3rd centuries c.e. (1984: fig. 97); Abu Mina—Der grosse Dopplebad, 5th–6th centuries c.e. (1984: fig. 38). The geared type is found at: Cosa—the spring house near the harbor, first quarter of 1st century b.c.e. and second half of 1st century c.e. (1984: figs. 52–64); Hermopolis—1st–2nd (?) centuries c.e. (1984: figs. 75–76); Abu Mina—“Der Palast,” 5th–6th centuries c.e. (1984: figs. 38–39). Oleson mentions other sites where fragments of sakiya vessels were found in wells, but the lifting (with or without a gear) device is uncertain: Cosa––the Acropolis Bathes, 150–125 b.c.e.; and later installations in Medinat Habu, Armant, Kafr Manda, Faium, etc. For a reconstruction of a manually operated bucket-chain in use in a ship for pumping out bilge water, found in Nemi, Italy, and dated to the second quarter of the 1st century c.e., see Oleson 1984: figs. 89, 90 (but Oleson comments that this reconstruction is uncertain). For finds from Campania, see Oleson 1996: 67–75. For a device that fed Byzantine bath-houses from a circular well in Marea, Egypt, see H. Szymanska 2003: 40, 45–46. Sakiya vessels were also found in the bath house of the palatial mansion to the south of area KK at Caesarea Maritima. The lifting device was set there on the top of a circular well, rather than above a rectangular shaft (Porath 1996: 39–41). It seems that it was a geared wheel operated by a draft animal. 24.  The Letter of Aristeas 88; m. Mid. 2:4; 4:3; 4:5; 4:7, etc.; Ant.8. 64 (describing the Temple of Solomon). On Hollis’s opinion about the temple orientation, see above, n. 6. 25. Maimonides, Mishneh Torah, Book 8 (the book of labor), Jerusalem: 1963, Hilkhot Beit Ha Behira, ch. 2 states that the altar was very carefully oriented, and it should not be changed. Moreover, in Halakha 4 Maimonides says that, of the three prophets that came with the returnees from exile, one gave testimony about the location of the altar and one about its dimensions.

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× 500 cubits of the Mishnah should be conceived of as a literary phrase, rather than providing actual dimensions (Patrich 2011). Ritmeyer (1992) suggested that there are archaeological remains that permit locating this square, which in any case preceded the Herodian precinct. From these, he concluded that the cubit in use measured 52.5 cm. 26 In the plans presented here, this is the unit adopted. 27 In any case, it is obvious that the square came later than the temple. Since it had to meet topographical constrains, it could not be set parallel to the temple walls. However, a simple geometrical analysis indicates that the diagonals of Ritmeyer’s square intersect approximately in the center of the Porch entrance, 28 implying that the corners of the square were dictated by the location of the temple. Shifting the altar and the temple farther east relative to the prevailing location leads to several results that deserve our attention: •  The Rock under the Muslim Dome (lower than the level of the Priestly Court) is left outside the Temple and its court. 29 •  Adhering to the dimensions given in the Mishnah for the length of the courts (187 cubits for the Temple Court, and 135 cubits for the Women’s Court) brings the entire complex nearer to the eastern wall. But an accurate survey 30 shows that there was still enough room to include all the elements that existed to the east of the altar, in their specified dimensions, within the Temple compound. 31 Farther east, and at a lower level, was the eastern 26.  B. Mazar (1985: 463–68) and, following him, Ritmeyer, attributed the original square to the Bira of Nehemiah—a fortified acropolis that had encompassed the temple itself, but this suggestion is not beyond doubt. It is rather more plausible that the formation of the square took place under the high priest Simeon, son of Onias—that is, Simeon the Just (thus Avi-Yonah 1956: 185) following Ben Sira 50:1–3 (the Greek version in particular). 27.  However, it is quite possible that the Herodian temple and its courts were built according to a shorter cubit. But since at present I do not have at hand better archaeological data than that provided by Ritmeyer, I have used this unit. For other proposals for the length of the cubit see above, n. 17. 28.  Benny Arubas of the Hebrew University drew my attention to this point in the context of a graphical examination of the feasibility of the present proposal using AutoCad software. I am indebted to him. In the location given in fig. 2 here, there is a slight diversion between the center of the Porch entrance relative to the meeting point of the diagonals. This plan was not drawn by AutoCad. It is also not clear how precise the present map of the precinct is. And it is also doubtful whether absolute precision was possible with the measuring instruments used by the ancient architects, in light of the topographical constrains they had to overcome. There also is some uncertainty about the extent that the southern arm of the cistern had penetrated into the Water Gate and into the Gullah Chamber and about the actual interval between the E–W axis of the altar and the E–W axis of the temple. 29.  The rock, with present elevation of 743.7 m a.s.l., was actually ca. 1.5 m underneath the floor level of the upper court; the Porch, the Sanctuary, and the Holy of Holies were 6 cubits higher still (see above, n. 10). However, as mentioned above, Ritmeyer (1996: 38–40, 56–57; 2006: 241–77), and as a matter of fact, all scholars who located the Holy of Holies over the rock, are of the opinion that the top of the rock was the stone called Shetiyah, which projected slightly above the floor of the Holy of Holies. 30.  This was not carried out in the sacred precinct but by means of AutoCad software using Wilson’s 1876 map, which was scanned. This project was carried out by Benny Arubas, to whom I am indebted. 31.  The dimensions of the Women’s Court are 135 × 135 cubits and of the Great Court, 187 × 135 cubits. The courts of Israel and of the Priests were 11-cubit-wide strips, on the eastern side

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portico, attributed to King Solomon. This portico remained lower and narrower than the other porticos, 32 so that the actual distance separating the eastern portico from the eastern gate of the Women’s Court was longer than the horizontal distance. It is reasonable to assume that a staircase was located there. It is suggested here that the actual shape of the Women’s Court was trapezoidal, rather than square. 33 •  We propose locating the altar in front of the Porch entrance, rather than farther south. Such a positioning will not cause a serious obstacle for circulation. “Between the Porch and the Altar was 22 cubits” (m. Mid. 3:6); the twelve grades located there had extended only 17 cubits east from the Porch, leaving a distance of 5 cubits between the lowest grade and the altar’s foundation 34—enough width to permit convenient circumnavigation of the altar.

The Court’s Gates and Chambers The new proposal permits us to set more precisely the location of some of the gates and chambers of the Temple Court. The southern arm of cistern 5, on the east, indicates the location of the Water Gate. 35 The southern arm on the west— apparently a natural fissure that preceded the cutting of the long gallery and the arms extending from it on the east—marks the location of the Gullah Chamber. 36 Placing of the Great Court, to the east of the altar. Adopting a 52.5-cm cubit and a square shape for the Women’s Court leaves a horizontal distance of 9.5 m between the northeast corner of this court and the eastern wall of the Temple Mount. This permits enough width for the eastern portico. But it is reasonable to assume that the Women’s Court had a trapezoidal shape, so that its eastern wall ran parallel to the eastern wall of the Temple Mount, and that the length of 135 cubits was an average, or maximum, longitudinal dimension; this is the case in the illustration presented here as fig. 2. According to Ant. 15.11.5, 418, the Women’s Court was not an original part of the Herodian building project but rather a later addition. A. Büchler 1898: 706–18 had suggested that it was completed only in the years 44–48 c.e. 32. In the time of Agrippa I (41–44 c.e.), who was appointed by Claudius to supervise the temple, when work was concluded, the people wanted to increase the height of this portico, 400 cubits long, to provide more work and prevent unemployment (Ant. 20.9.7, 220–221). 33.  A trapezoidal shape for this court was suggested also by Qoren (2007) because he oriented the façade of the temple due east, rather than parallel to the eastern wall of the precinct. 34.  The rise of each stair was half a cubit. The flight of stairs, 6 cubits high, bridged the level of the court and the level of the sanctuary. As for their length: the 12 stairs were divided into 4 groups of three; each of the first 3 groups were 1 cubit, 1 cubit, and 3 cubits long (covering 1+1+3 = 5 cubits; 5 × 3 =15 cubits); the uppermost group covered 1 cubit, 1 cubit, and 4 cubits, and according to R. Yehuda: 1 cubit, 1 cubit, and 5 cubits. However, the top stair covered partially, or fully, the thickness of the Porch wall, 5 cubits thick (m. Mid. 4:7), and thus the uppermost group extended just 2 cubits westward from the Porch wall, leaving an interval of 5 cubits between the flight of stairs and the altar: 15+2 = 17 cubits; 22–17 = 5 cubits. 35.  If the entire ceiling of this arm was of rock, it would have been impossible to operate a water wheel above (see above, n. 18). Nonetheless, the shape of this extension suggests that this was possible. 36.  On the western arm of the cistern: Interestingly, according to the dimensions given in the Temple Scroll for the House of the Laver and the House of the Utensils and their relative distance from each other and from the altar, it turns out that the laver in the pre-Herodian period reflected in this source was located on the southern side of the temple, exactly above this fissure! See Patrich 2009b. This is unlike the location suggested by Yadin (1983: 206, fig. 5). I maintain that the House of the Utensils was located on the site of the southern chamber of the slaughter knives

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Fig. 3.  Schematic plan of the court and its gates and chambers.

of the Herodian porch (where Yadin places the House of the Laver) and, accordingly, I suggest moving the altar and the House of the Laver 28 cubits farther west relative to the location given by Yadin. If this source indeed reflects a pre-Herodian reality in this regard, it seems that the laver was moved to a new location—between the porch and the altar ramp—simultaneously with the cutting of cistern 5 from the fissure eastward and the cutting of its northern “arms.” On the Gullah Chamber : This may prove that the version of m. Mid. 5:3, locating the Gullah Chamber among the three southern chambers, is superior relative to the version of the baraitha in b. Yoma 19a, which lists it among the northern chambers. See Mishnah, Seder Qodashim, ed. T. Albeck, additions and supplements, p. 435 (Hebrew). On the north, there is no water cistern in an appropriate location. Most commentators, following Maimonides’ Mishneh Torah, chap. 5, Halakha 17 (1963: 35–36), have adhered to the text of the Babylonian baraitha and therefore have provided false reconstructions in drawings for the location of the court’s chambers: e.g., in Tiferet

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Fig. 4a.  Schematic plan of the court gates according to Ant. 15, 418.

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Fig. 4b.  Schematic plan of the court gates according to War 5, 201–5.

the altar in front of the gate of the Porch, as proposed above, brings the southern arms of cistern 5 deep enough into the Water Gate and the Gullah Chamber, permitting the operation of water-wheels inside. Moreover, cistern 5 can be identified with the Gullah Cistern mentioned above. 37 The small projection from the main corridor in the northwest corner of cistern 5—apparently the northern tip of the natural fissure—might have served to collect the water of the drain that ran east– west, forming the southern space of the temple (m. Mid. 4:7: it drained the water from the temple roofs), apparently through a channel that has disappeared. These identifiers permit us to suggest more accurate relative locations for the other gates and chambers of the court, as will be detailed below. The gates: The Mishnah lists the gates and the chambers, without specifying their dimensions. Flavius Josephus gives dimensions. According to War 5.5.3, 201–5, which pertains to the temple destroyed (Levine 1994: 233–36), 38 one can conclude that all the gates (except the one leading from the Women’s Gate to the Israel Gate), were actually gate-houses of two openings measuring 15 × 30 m, provided with Israel commentary of R. Israel Lifshitz on m. Mid.; in the drawing given in the Encyclopedia Thalmudit, vol. 3, art. “temple,” between pp. 231–32 (in Hebrew); Aibeschitz 1996: 199–268, map between pp. 10 and 11, no. XLVII, model, p. 523; Ariel 2005: 38–39. R. Yonatan ben Yosef of Razinai had adhered to the version of the Mishnah, and rightly so. 37.  The reading Gullah (meaning water source, or a basin) is preferred over the reading Golah (meaning Diaspora, Exile) cistern. As was mentioned above, the arm projecting into this chamber seems to be a natural karst fissure (it is impossible to determine this without a close inspection). In the southern wall of the main gallery there is a sort of inset, so that its eastern third, from which the eastern arms project to the north and to the south, is slightly narrower. It can be cautiously suggested that this inset marks the southwest corner of the earlier cistern, namely, that the Hellenistic/Hasmonean phase consisted only of the karst fissure and the western part, up to this corner, deep around three sides of the altar’s ramp, and later it was extended west, connecting this part with the natural fissure, bringing the long gallery to its present length. This extension was cut slightly narrower on the south. For more on the Water Gate and the meaning of its name, see below. See also Patrich 2008a, 2009b. 38.  It should be noted that not all the gates looked identical (see below).

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doors. One opening faced into the Temple Court, the other faced out. The internal dimensions of each gate house, beyond the openings, were 30 × 30 cubits. From the parallel passage in Ant. 15.11.5, 418, describing the temple as it was built by Herod (Levine 1994), we learn that the court gates on the north and on the south were of the “three-compartment type.” 39 Compartment gates are also mentioned in the description of the courts of Ezekiel’s temple (Haran 1968: cols. 346–56; Haran et al. 1996: 204–18) and in the Temple Scroll. 40 Such were also the gates of the Samaritan temple on Mount Gerizim: they had three pairs of compartments in the Persian phase, and two pairs of compartments in the Hellenistic phase (Magen 2001: 74–118). 41 In J.W. (5.5.3, 201–205), it is said that beyond the openings the gate-houses became wider, resembling two exedrae of two lofty columns each, each column twelve cubits in circumference. It seems reasonable to suggest that the two barrier walls separating the compartments on each wing of the gate-house of the earlier phase were later replaced by two columns, resembling the structure of the Triple Gate. 42 How were the gates located relative to the Court? Did they project out, into the non-holy ground, or were they positioned differently? In Ezekiel’s temple, the two courts were provided with gates. Those of the outer court projected into the court, while those of the inner court, which is equivalent to the great court of the temple described in the Mishnah, projected outside of this court. 43 The width of the court was 135 cubits. According to the given dimensions of the gates, it is reasonable to assume that most of the gates on the south and on the north projected from the court outward, into non-holy ground. About the Water Gate it is said explicitly in a baraitha of the Babylonian Talmud that it was located in non-holy ground. 44 Only 39.  Τριστοίχηοῦ πυλῶνας, and there are various readings. R. Marcus (Loeb Classical Library edition, p. 459) translates: “three chambered gateways”; A. Schalit translates: “on the inside, on the south and on the north, there were triple gates, separated from each other” (Hebrew trans., p. 201). 40.  Yadin 1983: 200–210: the inner court; pp. 241–49: the middle court; pp. 249–56: the outer court. 41.  The northern and the western gates to the Mt. Gerizim temple court were exposed during the excavations. 42.  De Vogüé 1864 (see Ritmeyer 2006: 150) reconstructed only two columns in each gatehouse, while it is said that there were two exedrae, each having two columns; Schick 1896: taf. 7, (see also Ritmeyer 2006: 154) set four columns in the midst of each gate, lengthwise; Watson 1896: 47–60 (see also Ritmeyer 2006: 156) depicted the gates like exedrae open to the court, each having one pair deep inside it, or two pairs of columns, to the front. Busink (1980: 1064, fig. 242) set in the center of the southern and northern wings large gates, each having two exedrae of two columns. On either side of these central gates he placed simple gates, with no columns. Netzer (2006a, 2006b) placed two columns in the façade of each gate-house, but this is not what is said by Josephus. 43.  In the Temple Scroll, three courts are mentioned. The gates of the inner court (with their inner dimensions of just 280 × 280 cubits) and the outer court are mostly located within the court, with a smaller part extending outside, while the gates of the middle court (having inner dimensions of 480 × 480 cubits) are located inside (Yadin 1983: 246-247). 44.  b.Yoma 31a: “Our Rabbis taught: The high priest underwent five immersions and ten sanctifications on that day, all of them on holy ground, in the Parwah Cell, with the exception of the first, which took place on profane ground, on top of the Water Gate, lying at the side of his [private] cell.”

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the House of the Hearth gate was located partially in the holy and partially in the profane, and apparently this was also the case of the Nitzotz Gate. As for the chambers to be discussed below, according to the Tosefta, Maʿaser Śeni 2:14–15 (ed. Zuckermendal, pp. 89–90; ed. Lieberman, p. 254; see also Lieberman, Tosefta KiPshuta, pp. 742–44), no chamber was located entirely in the profane and open to the holy (as were most of the gates). 45 The Mishnah (Mid. 1:4) lists seven gates of the court: three on the north, three on the south, and one on the east. 46 Further on, their names are given. Since the Water Gate occupies the easternmost end on the southern side, we can conclude that the listing is counterclockwise, first those on the south, from west to east: the Kindling Gate, the Firstlings Gate, and the Water Gate; next the one on the east— the Nikanor Gate; and last, those on the north, from east to west: the Nitzotz Gate, the Offering Gate, and the House of the Hearth. Thus, the House of the Hearth, which was a vast building, partially in the holy and partially in the profane, having two openings, one in the holy, the other in the non-holy, was located near the northwest corner of the Court, opposite the Holy of Holies, rather than farther east along the northern wall or near the northeastern corner, facing the altar and the slaughtering place to its north, as some scholars and commentators have suggested in their reconstructions. 47 From its northwest corner, stairs led down to a passage leading to the Chamber of Immersion, apparently located nearby. According to our proposal, cistern 3, whose axiality is perpendicular to that of cistern 5, marks the site of the Chamber of Immersion. 48 As was indicated above, on the north, the gates are listed from east to west, the easternmost being the Nitzotz Gate. We suggest locating it vis-à-vis the Water Gate. In the Nitzotz Gate (Gate of the Flame?), the two openings were at two different levels. A watch of priests was standing in the entrance leading from the court, and a watch of Levites was standing in the other entrance, leading to the hel (rampart or, rather, ditch). Therefore, this gate looked like an exedra with an upper gallery. 45.  But the gates had two openings. See S. Lieberman, Tosefta Kipshuta, pp. 742–44, commentary on lines 75 and 85; all chambers must have been at least partially in the holy. In Netzer’s 2006 reconstruction, all the chambers are placed outside of the court (187 × 135 cubits), so that, though open to the sacred, all are located on non-sacred ground. This stands in contrast to the wording of the Tosefta. 46. In m. Mid. 2:6, 13 gates are mentioned, opposite which there were 13 prostrations: four on the south (and they are listed from west to east): the Upper Gate, Kindling Gate, Firstlings Gate, Water Gate; four on the north (and they are also listed from west to east): Jechania Gate, Offering Gate, Women’s Gate, Song Gate; three on the east: Nikanor’s Gate and its two wickets, on the right and on the left; and two on the west, which had no name. In this list, wickets and smaller openings that were not full-fledged gates were mentioned as well. The number corresponds to the 13 breaks in the soreg made by the Greek kings (m. Mid. 2:3), apparently on the site of openings that were broken through, but m. Mid. 2:6 speaks about openings of the court, not in the soreg (unless there is some confusion here). 47.  Netzer (2006) placed it opposite the altar and Lifshitz, as well as Qoren, slightly farther west. Maimonides placed it in the middle of the northern wall, and thus also Ariel. Aibeschitz placed it farther west, but not in the northwestern corner. For references, see above, n. 36. 48.  This is also Ritmeyer’s proposal (2006: 345). In this case, this cistern would have provided water to an immersion pool, the water of which could have been replaced. Tangential to it there must have been an otzar, which held undrawn water.

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Farther west was the Offering Gate. The Salt Chamber was a storehouse, where “they put the salt for the offerings” (m. Mid. 5:3). It was apparently located farther to the west, but there is no certainty about its exact location. The southeastern chamber of the House of the Hearth belonged to Them That Made the Shewbread, and on the northeast the place where the sons of the Hasmoneans had hidden away the stones of the Altar that the Greek kings had defiled. Then came the space where a hearth was burning —a large, dome-shaped building, with two gates, one open to the Temple Court, to holy space, the second outside, to the non-holy hel (m. Mid. 1:7). Then came the western chambers of this gate-house: the Chamber of the Lamb-offerings (it was a kind of animal-pen), 49 on the southwest, and on the northwest a spiral staircase by means of which the priests went down to the Chamber of Immersion. The southern chambers of this gate-house were located in the holy, the northern ones on profane ground (m. Mid. 1:6–8). Along the northern side of the court, there were thus eight architectural components: two regular gates (with a gate house of 30 × 30 cubits according to Flavius Josephus), two chambers served as workshops associated with slaughtering and rinsing of the offerings, one storehouse (the Salt Chamber), and the House of the Hearth—a complex with three components. This was the westernmost complex. The chambers: There are two contradicting versions pertaining to the names of the southern and northern court chambers. According to m. Mid. 5:3–4, “There were six chambers in the temple court, three to the north and three to the south. Those to the north were the Salt Chamber, the Parwah Chamber, and the Rinsing Chamber. . . . Those to the south were the Wood[en] Chamber, the Gullah Chamber, and the Chamber of Hewn Stone.” All extant manuscripts of the Mishnah (Library of the Hungarian Academy of Sciences, Budapest, Kaufmann 50, p. 70; Parma, Biblioteca Palatina 3173 [de Rossi 138], pp. 146–47) give this order. In the printed text of the Babylonian Talmud, Yoma 19a, the order is reversed: “Six cells [i.e., chambers] were in the Temple Court, three to the south, three to the north. Those to the south were the Cell of the Salt, the Cell of Parwah, The Rinsing Cell. . . . The three to the north were: The Wood[en] Cell, the Exile [= Golah] 50 Cell, and the Cell of Hewn Stone.” Here there is no consensus in all three extant manuscripts. While two of them (Vatican, Bibliotheca Apostolica, Ebr. 134, 079v and New York, Jewish Theological Seminary, Rab. 1623, 139v) give this order (which differs twice from the Mishnaic text, replacing north with south and south with north), in a third MS (British Library, Harley 5508), “north” is rendered twice: Those to the north were the Cell of the Salt, the Cell of Parwah, the Rinsing Cell. . . . The three to the north were: the Wood[en] Cell, the Exile [= Golah] Cell, and the Cell of Hewn Stone.” The passage in this MS, is evidently corrupt, yet it differs just once from the Mishnaic text. 51 49.  See the hypothetical reconstruction depicted in Ariel 2005: 70. 50.  Thus Danby’s translation, but as was mentioned above, we should instead read Gullah, not Golah (Exile), and translate accordingly “water source” or “a basin.” Similarly in the next citation. 51.  I. Epstein, in his translation of the Babylonian Talmud, Seder Moʿed (1961: 81) had generally followed the text of the British Library (Harley 5508). But in his translation of the passage

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Fig. 5.  Reconstruction of the temple according to tractate Middot (Patrich 1988).

Maimonides, in his Mishneh Torah, opted for the version found in the Babylonian Talmud and drew a sketch of the temple court in accord with this text, placing the Wood[en] Chamber, the Gullah Chamber, and the Chamber of Hewn Stone in the north, while the Salt Chamber—where they put the salt for the offerings, the Parwah Chamber, where they salted the hides of the animal-offerings—and the Rinsing Chamber—where they rinsed the innards of the animal-offerings (m. Mid. 5:3), 52 he had placed in the south, remote from the House of Slaughtering (in spite under consideration, given above, he put south instead of north, following the texts of the other manuscripts. 52.  The commandment to wash in water the internal organs and the legs of the burnt offering is given in Lev. 1:9, 13. In Solomon’s Temple, the ten bases (mechonoth) of brass served this purpose. Every brass base had four brazen wheels, which bore the lavers; they stood in two parallel rows to the right and the left of the sanctuary entrance. The lavers were four cubits in diameter and in height (1 Kgs 7:27–39; 2 Chr 4:6). The large dimensions indicate that moving them from one place to another was not easy. It was impossible to use them without climbing a ladder or using a similar device, unless there were some faucets that permitted a controlled flow (as suggested

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of the fact that all the three had functions related to the slaughtered offerings). This drawing of Maimonides was appended to his Commentary on the Mishnah, written in Arabic. Accordingly, some hand altered the first printed version of the Mishnah (Neapoli 1492) to meet his interpretation. Other Rabbinic commentators followed Maimonides in their drawings, including, more recently, R. Israel Lifshitz, the author of Tiferet Israel commentary (end of the 18th century to the early 19th century), and many others up to the most recent plans of R. Israel Ariel, the chair of the Tempe Institute, and R. Zalman Qoren, whose model is set under Wilson’s Arch, on the northern side of the Wailing Wall. However, since Cistern 5 is the only candidate that can be identified with the Gullah Cistern, 53 as was indicated above, and the water-wheel operated there was located in the Gullah Chamber, this chamber must have been located on the southern side of the Temple Court. Hence, we should follow the text of the Mishnah rather than that of the Babylonian Talmud, pace Maimonides and all of the Rabbinic commentators that followed him. The Wood[en] Chamber and the Chamber of Hewn Stone were thus on the south. According to our proposal, the chambers were listed clockwise: those on the north, from west to east, and those on the south, from east to west. There is also internal evidence to suggest this order (see below). According to this order, the Wood[en] Chamber was the nearest to the Water Gate, to its west. As for its name: R. Eliezer ben Yaacob, who was still alive after the destruction of the temple and to whom the Mishnaic tractates Middot and Tamid are attributed, said: “I forgot what was its use.” We may thus conclude that its name was not derived from its function as storage space for wood for the altar but rather that it was an ancient chamber, built of wood—a Wooden Chamber, hence our rendition above. Abba Saul [b. Batnith] said: “It was the chamber of the High Priest.” It seems that it served for this purpose in earlier times, otherwise it would be difficult to understand how its function was forgotten. That this chamber of the High Priest was indeed located near the Water Gate we learn from another passage, speaking about an immersion pool (miqveh) for the high priest at the top of the Water Gate (b. Yoma 31a). The source of water for this miqveh was located within the gate. 54 The location of the Gullah in the case of the Sea). But this is not mentioned in the Bible. For discussions, with further references, see above, n. 12. Cisterns 2, 34, and 36 on Wilson’s map are located not far from the Rinsing Chamber. But since they are located outside the court, to the north, priests were not permitted to get out, into the non-holy, in order to draw water from them. For their possible function, see Patrich 2008b. As mentioned above, water for all the needs of the Inner Court were provided by the Gullah Cistern. 53.  Qoren (2007: 122–24) had suggested that Cistern no. 1 (= Cistern no. 31 of Gibson and Jacobson 1990–91: 143–51) was the Gullah Cistern. It is ca. 40 m long and 7.3 m wide, with a masonry vaulted ceiling. Qoren identifies no cistern that could have served the laver. 54. In m. Middot 2:6 is written: “And why was it called the Water Gate? Because through it they brought in the flagon of water for the libation at the feast [of Tabernacles].” But it seems that, in addition to this rite, the name was derived from the cistern located therein, which had provided water for the miqveh on its roof (and for other needs). Aibeschitz (1996: 149–50), who relies heavily on rabbinic commentators, also reaches a conclusion in this spirit. In this case, as well, a tangential otzar, which held un-drawn water, was obligatory, and the water could have been brought up in pipes (following a practice detailed in m. Miqw. 6:8; Tosefta Miqw. 5:5 [the Hebrew term

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Chamber was already indicated above. Apparently, the Firstlings Gate was located to its east, between it and the Wooden Chamber, and to its west was the Kindling Gate. The Chamber of the Hewn Stone was located farther west, near the southwest corner of the court. A Rabbinic passage concludes that this Chamber was located in the southwest corner of the court, partially in holy ground and partially in the non-holy ground, as is indicated in the drawing. This as well was a vast building, located opposite the Holy of the Holies, like the House of Hearth on the north, on the opposite side of the temple. This is the passage in question: The Cell [= Chamber] of the Hewn Stone was [built] in the style of a large basilica. The count took place in the eastern side, with the elder sitting in the west, and the priests in that form of a spiral figure. . . . Abaye said: We can infer from this the Cell of Hewn Stone was [situated] half on holy ground, half on non-holy ground; that the Cell had two doors, one opening on holy ground, the other opening on non-holy ground.” (b. Yoma 25a, trans. I. Epstein; y. Yoma 24b)

The Talmudic discussion is based on the Mishnah, Maʿaser Śeni 3:8, and Tosefta, ibid. 2:13–15 (ed. Zuckermendal, 89–90; ed. Lieberman, p. 254. See also Tosefta KiPshuta, pp. 742–44). It is inferred from it that the place where the elders (which included also non-priests) were sitting was in the non-holy ground and on the west. 55 Namely, this part of the chamber projected west of the court’s wall. This section also had an opening leading in from the profane (perhaps the Upper Gate mentioned in m. Mid. 2:6 on the southern side). The lottery that chose the priests for service took place on the eastern side of the chamber, and an opening provided access there from the court—namely, from the holy. 56 Other scholars have erroneously placed the Chamber of the Hewn Stone elsewhere. Qoren, adhering to Maimonides’ interpretation, placed it in the northwest corner of the court. Ritmeyer and Netzer, adhering to the Mishnaic text, but adopting an order the reverse of ours, placed it in the southeast corner. designating a pipe is silon]). But the roof was large enough (30 × 30 cubits) to permit the collection of an adequate amount of rain-water in this miqveh. 55.  According to the sages, only the non-priestly kings of the house of David were permitted to sit in the temple court: b. Yoma 21a. See also Maimonides Hilkhot beth Habehira 5:17, 1963: 36. 56.  See the commentary of Rabbenu Hananel, cited by Aibeschitz 1996: 251. But Aibeschitz’s discussion and that of many commentators are wrong, adhering to b. Yoma 19a version (see above, n. 37), according to which the Chamber of the Hewn Stone was located on the northern side of the court, which is a mistake. See also the discussion in Qoren (2007: 117–21), who also maintains that it was on the north, but following R. Yosef Mitrani (1595) and R. David Pardo (1799) he concluded rightly that, if it is on the north, it should be in the northwest corner. The regulations of Maʿaser Śeni bear upon the location of the gates and chambers both in the holy and in the profane areas. The court’s wall separates between the holy and the non-holy, or profane, ground. There were chambers built in the holy and open to the non-holy; there were others that were built partially in the holy and partially in the non-holy, and open to the holy and to the non-holy, like the House of the Hearth, the Chamber of Hewn Stone, and the Nitzotz Gate. If we accept Josephus’s testimony, according to whom the gates had a huge gate-house measuring 30 × 30 cubits, we must conclude that all the gates (except the House of the Hearth and the Nitzotz Gate), were located in the profane, and open to the holy and to the profane. There was not enough room to locate them entirely in the holy.

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“The Rinsing Chamber [was so named] because there they rinsed the innards of the animal-offerings” (m. Mid. 5:3). This task must have been carried out on tables similar to those provided for the place of slaughtering (m. Mid. 5:2). Therefore, it is suggested that this Rinsing Chamber was its northern part and that it was therefore located opposite the altar. On its northwestern corner there was a stair-tower (messibah) leading to the roof of the Parwah Chamber, where the place of immersion (miqveh) for the High Priest on the Day of Atonement was located. The Parwah Chamber was thus located near the northwestern corner of the Rinsing Chamber. In the Parwah Chamber, “they salted the hides of the animal-offerings” (m. Mid. 5:3). It was thus a simple storeroom for the salted hides, provided with some tables. The Salt Chamber also seems to have been a simple storeroom located farther west. It is suggested that both flanked a portico in front of the Offering Gate.

Conclusion To sum up, cistern 5 on Wilson’s map—a prominent archaeological feature entirely preserved under the upper platform of the Temple Mount—is a key for locating more precisely the temple according to the literary sources. From m. Tamid 1:4, we can infer that near the laver, located between the Porch and the altar ramp, there was a cistern that provided the laver with water by means of a mechanical device: a geared water wheel of the sakiya type. Cistern 5 is the only candidate that might have provided fresh water to the laver. The orientation of its long corridor preserves the orientation of the Temple and its Courts: 9.7° south of due east (instead of 6.18° north of due east according to the opinion that has generally prevailed). Locating the altar ramp between the northern arms of the cistern enables us to determine the location of the Temple quite precisely. The result is that the temple was standing more to the east relative to current opinions, so that the Rock under the Muslim Dome (which was below floor level during the Second Temple period, hidden from sight) was located to the west of the temple court. The southern arms of cistern 5 mark the locations of the Water Gate and of the Gullah Chamber. Locating the Water Gate enables us to suggest a relative location for all other gates. The Water Gate was thus located near the southeastern corner of the court. The Firstlings Gate was to its west, and the Kindling Gate farther west. On the north, the Nitzotz Gate faced the Water Gate, the House of the Hearth Gate was on the western end of this side, and in between was the Offering Gate. Cistern 3, whose axis is perpendicular to that of cistern 5, marks the location of the Chamber of Immersion, accessed by an underground passage and a stair-tower leading down from the House of the Hearth. The dimensions of the gate-houses of the court were 30 × 30 cubits. As for their plan, according to Ant. (15.11.5, 418) they were first triple-compartments gates, resembling those described by Ezekiel and in the Temple Scroll and those found in the Samaritan temple on Mount Gerizim. From the parallel description in J.W. (5.5.3, 201–205), it can be concluded that in a later phase the barrier walls separating the compartments were replaced by two pairs of lofty columns. The Gate of the House of Hearth and the Nitzotz Gate must have had a different plan. The exact

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plan and shape of the chambers is a more intricate issue, deserving further study. However, none of the chambers was located entirely within profane ground, with openings to the holy. The exact location of the Gullah Chamber is marked by the southwestern arm of cistern 5. It indicates that this chamber was on the south, and hence the text of the Mishnah, not that of the Talmud, should be adopted for the names of the northern and southern chambers. The Wooden Chamber that served the High Priest was attached to the Water Gate. Since the Chamber of the Hewn Stone was on the south, the Rabbinic sources given above lead to the inevitable conclusion that it was located in the southwestern corner of the court, built partially in the holy and partially in the non-holy. As for the northern chambers, there are no precise indicators for their exact location (except the chambers in the House of the Hearth). According to their function, it is reasonable to assume that the Rinsing Chamber was part of the House of the Slaughtering, which extended from the altar to the north, and that the Parwah Chamber was attached to it on the west. They were thus adjacent to the Nitzotz Gate and adjacent to each other, since the ascent to the miqveh on the roof of Parwah Chamber was by means of a stair-tower (messibah) located in the Rinsing Chamber. The Salt Chamber was located farther west, relative to these two. 57

57.  The proposal presented here was conceived while writing the chapter “538 b.c.e.–70 c.e: The Temple (Beyt ha-Miqdash) and Its Mount,” now published in O. Grabar and B. Z. Kedar, When Heaven and Earth Meet: Jerusalem’s Sacred Esplanade (Austin: University of Texas Press, 2009) 37–71. It was briefly presented in the framework of an authors’ colloquium, which took place in Jerusalem, Feb. 28–March 2, 2006. Since then, various aspects were presented in several conferences in Israel (“The Southern and Northern Chambers of the Second Temple,” paper read at the 17th conference for the Study of Judaea and Samaria, Ariel Academic College, June 21, 2007), U.S.A. (Brown University), Jordan (“Water-wheels at the Service of the Second Jewish Temple in Jerusalem,” lecture delivered at Cura Aquarum in Jordan, the 13th International Conference on the History of Water Management and Hydraulic Engineering in the Mediterranean Region, Petra– Amman, 31 March–9 April 2007 (= Patrich 2008a), and Vienna (“The Second Temple Relocated: The Gates and Chambers of its Court,” paper read at the SBL International Meeting, Vienna, July 23, 2007). For a brief and essential Hebrew article, see Patrich 2006. For a detailed Hebrew version of the present article, see Patrich 2007. The English article has been modified and elaborated, due to further research. I have received useful suggestions and comments from my colleagues Prof. E. Reiner, Dr. D. Bahat, and Mr. Benny Arubas. I am indebted to them for the time they spent discussing various issues with me.

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Badawy, A. 1956 Au grand temple d’Hermoupolis-ouest: l’installation hydraulique. Révue Archéo­lo­ gique 48: 140–54. Bagatti, B. 1965 La posizione del tempio erodiano di Gerusalemme. Biblica 46: 428–44. 1979 Recherches sur la site du Temple de Jérusalem (I–VII siècle). Jerusalem: Franciscan Printing Press. Barclay, J. T. 1858 The City of the Great King: or, Jerusalem as It Was, as It Is, and as It Is to Be. Philadelphia: J. Challen. Bar-Kochva, B. 1996 Pseduo-Hevataeus, On the Jews: Legitimizing the Jewish Diaspora. Hellenistic Culture and Society 21. Berkeley: University of California Press. Ben-David, P. 1969 Ha-Middah ha-Yerushalmit: An Archaeological Solution of a Talmudic-Metrological Problem. IEJ 19: 159–69. 1978 The Hebrew-Phoenician Cubit. PEQ 110: 27–28. Ben-Dov, M. 1985 In the Shadow of the Temple: The Discovery of Ancient Jerusalem. Trans. from the Hebrew by Ina Friedman. Jerusalem: Keter. Büchler, A. 1898 The Fore-Court of Women and the Brass Gate in the Temple of Jerusalem. JQR 10: 678–718. Busink, T. A. 1970 Der Tempel von Jerusalem: Von Salomon bis Herodes; eine archaeologisch-historische Studie unter Beruecksichtigung des westsemitischen Tempelbaus, I: Der Tempel Salomons. Leiden: Brill. 1980 Der Tempel von Jerusalem: von Salomon bis Herodes; eine archaeologisch-historische Studie unter Beruecksichtigung des westsemitischen Tempelbaus, II: Von Ezechiel bis Middot. Leiden: Brill. Di Segni, L. 2002 The Water Supply of Roman and Byzantine Palestine in Literary and Epigraphical Sources. Pp. 37–67 in The Aqueducts of Israel, ed. D. Amit, J. Patrich and Y.  Hirschfeld. Journal of Roman Archaeology Supplement 46. Portsmouth, RI: Journal of Roman Archaeology. Epstein, I., trans. 1961 Babylonian Talmud, Seder Moʿed. London: Soncino. Gibson, S., and Jacobson, D. M. 1996 Below the Temple Mount. A Sourcebook on the Cisterns, Subterranean Chambers and Conduits of the Haram al-Sharif. BAR International Series, 637. Oxford: Archaeopress. Grafman, R. 1970 Herod’s Foot and Robinson’s Arch. IEJ 20: 60–66. Haran, M. 1968 Ezekiel’s Temple. Encyclopaedia Biblica, vol. 5, cols. 346–56. Jerusalem: Mosad Bialik. [Hebrew] 1996 The Plan of Ezekiel’s Temple. Pp. 204–18 in Olam Ha Thanakh: Ezekiel, ed. M. Haran et al. Tel Aviv: Davidson-Itai. [Hebrew] Hollis, F. J. 1934 The Archaeology of Herod’s Temple. London: J. M. Dent & Sons. Horowitz, A. 2000 Solomon’s Temple. Pp. 131–54 in Sefer Yerushalaim: The Biblical Period, ed. S. Ahituv and A. Mazar. Jerusalem: Yad Ben-Zvi. [Hebrew]

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Herzog, Z. 2000 Solomon’s Temple: Reconstructing its Plan and Archaeological Parallels. Pp. 155– 74 in Sefer Yerushalaim: The Biblical Period, ed. S. Ahituv and A. Mazar. Jerusalem: Yad Ben-Zvi. [Hebrew] Humphrey, J. W., Oleson J. P., and Sherwood, A. N. 1998 Greek and Roman Technology: A Sourcebook. London: Routledge. Jacobson, D. 1980 Ideas Concerning the Plan of Herod’s Temple. PEQ 112: 33–40. Jacobson, D. 1990–91  The Plan of Herod’s Temple. Bulletin of the Anglo-Israel Archaeological Society 10: 36. Jellicoe, S. 1968 The Septuagint and Modern Study. Oxford: Clarendon Press; repr., Winona Lake, IN: Eisenbrauns, 1978. Jeremias, J. 1969 Jerusalem in the Time of Jesus. Study edition. London: SCM. Kaufman, A. S. 1984 Determining the Length of the Medium Cubit. PEQ 116: 120–32. 2004 The Temple Mount: Where is the Holy of Holies? Jerusalem: Har Yera’eh. Kümmel, A. 1904 Materialen zur Topographie des alten Jerusalem, Begleitext zu der Karte der Materialen zur Topographie des alten Jerusalem. Hale: Verlag des Deutschen Palaestina-Vereins. Landels, J.G. 1978 Engineering in the Ancient World. Berkeley: University of California Press. Levine, L. I. 1994 Josephus’ Description of the Jerusalem Temple: ‘War’, ‘Antiquities’, and other sources. Pp 233–46 in Josephus and the History of the Greco-Roman Period: Essays in Memory of Morton Smith, ed. F. Parente and J. Sievers. Leiden: Brill. Lifshitz, B. 1963 Notes d’épigraphie grecque. RB 70: 255–57. Magen, Y. 2001 Mount Gerizim–a Temple City. Qadmoniot 120: 74–118. [Hebrew] Mazar, A. 2002 A Survey of the Aqueducts of Jerusalem. Pp. 211–23 in The Ancient Aqueducts of Israel, ed. D. Amit, J. Patrich and Y. Hirschfeld. Journal of Roman Archaeology Supplement 46. Portsmouth, RI: Journal of Roman Archaeology. Mazar, B. 1985 The Temple Mount. Pp. 463–68 in Biblical Archaeology Today: Proceedings of the International Congress on Biblical Archaeology. Jerusalem: Israel Exploration Society. Netzer, E. 2006a The Form and Function of Courts and Gates that Surrounded the Second Temple. Qadmoniot 38/130: 97­–106. [Hebrew] 2006b The Architecture of Herod, the Great Builder. Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck. Oleson, J. P. 1984 Greek and Roman Mechanical Water-Lifing Devices: The History of a Technology. Phoenix Supplement 16. Toronto: University of Toronto Press. 1996 Water-Lifting Devices at Herculaneum and Pompeii in the Context of Roman Technology. Pp. 67–75 in Cura Aquarum in Campania, ed. N. de Haan and G. C. M. Jansen. Leiden: Brill. Orlinski, H. M. 1952 Review of Hadas, Aristeas to Philocrates [1951]. Crozer Quarterly 29: 201–5.

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Patrich, J. 1981 A Sadducean Halakha and the Jerusalem Aqueduct. Pp. 25–39 in The Jerusalem Cathedra, vol. 2, ed. L. I. Levine. Jerusalem: Yad Ben-Zvi. 1988 Reconstructing the Magnificent Temple Herod Built. Bible Review 4/5: 16–29. 2006 The Location of the Second Temple: A New Proposal. Pp. 41–48 in New Jerusalem Studies 12, ed. E. Baruch and A. Faust. Ramat Gan: Bar Ilan University. [Hebrew] 2007 The Second Temple and Its Courts: A New Proposal about Their Location on the Temple Mount. Pp. 173-183 in Eretz Israel 28 (2007; Teddy Kollek Memorial Volume): 173–83. (Tedy Kollek memorial volume). [Hebrew] 2008a Water-Wheels at the Service of the Second Jewish Temple in Jerusalem. Pp. 239–46 in Cura Aquarum in Jordanien: Proceedings of the 13th International Conference on the History of Water Management and Hydraulic Engineering in the Mediterranean Region, Petra / Amman 31 March – 09 April 2007, ed. C. Ohlig. Siegburg: Babesch. 2008b On the Chamber called House of Stone (beth even), Which was Facing the Northeast Corner of the Temple Building (birah) (Mishnah, Parah 3:1). New Jerusalem Studies 14: 121–32. [Hebrew]. 2009a 538 bce–70 ce: The Temple (Beyt Ha-Miqdash) and Its Mount. Pp. 37–71 in O. Grabar and B. Z. Kedar, eds., Where Heaven and Earth Meet: Jerusalem’s Sacred Esplanade. Austin, TX: University of Texas Press. 2009b The Pre-Herodian Temple: Reassessing the House of the Laver and the House of the Utensils in the Temple Scroll. Revue Biblique 116/4: 505–26. 2011 The Pre-Herodian Temple II: The Building Project of Simeon the Just on the Temple Mount. Revue Biblique (forthcoming). Parrot, A. 1957 The Temple of Jerusalem. Trans. B. Hooke. London: SCM. Peleg, Y. 2003 The Metrology of the Cubit from the Herodian to the Mishnah Period (37 b.c.e. – 200 c.e.). Unpublished M.A. thesis, Bar Ilan University 2003. 2005 Review of The Temple Mount: Where is the Holy of Holies? by A. S. Kaufman. Cathedra 117 : 157–63. [Hebrew] Planche I., Pearce, R., and Hubbard, S. 1966 The Topography of Ancient Jerusalem. PEQ 98: 130–54. Porath, Y. 1996 Caesarea: The IAA Expedition. Hadashot Arkheologiyot 105: 39–46. [Hebrew] Qoren, Z. 2007 VeAsu li Mikdash. Jerusalem: The Wailing Wall Heritage Foundation. [Hebrew] Rappaport, U. 1970 When was Aristeas Letter Composed? Pp. 37–50 in Studies in the History of the People and Land of Israel, vol. 1. Tel Aviv: University of Haifa. [Hebrew] Reidinger E. F. 2004 The Temple Mount Platform in Jerusalem from Solomon to Herod: An Archaeological Re-Examination. Assaf: Studies in Art History 9: 1–64. Ritmeyer, L. P. 1992 Locating the original Temple Mount. Biblical Archaeology Review 18/2: 24–45, 64–65. 1996 The Temple and the Rock. Harrogate: Ritmeyer Archaeological Design. 2006 The Quest: Revealing the Temple Mount in Jerusalem. Jerusalem: Carta. Schick, K. 1896 Die Stiftshütte, der Tempel in Jerusalem und der Tempelplatz der Jetztzeit. Berlin: Weidmannsche Buchhandlung. Schiøler, T. 1973 Roman and Islamic Water Lifting Wheels. Odense: Odense University Press.

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Schürer, E. 1986 The History of the Jewish People in the Age of Jesus Christ (175 b.c.–a.d. 135), Vol. 3/1, ed. G. Vermes, F. Millar, and M. Goodman. Edinburgh: T. & T. Clark. Schwabe, M. 1950–51  A Jewish Sepulchral Inscription. IEJ 1: 52. Scott, R. B. Y. 1958 The Hebrew Cubit. JBL 1958: 205–14. 1959 Weights and Measures of the Bible. BA 22/2: 22–41. Simons, J. J. 1952 Jerusalem in the Old Testament: Researches and Theories. Leiden: Brill. Szymanska, H., and Babraj, K. 2003 Marea: Season 2002. Polish Archaeology in the Mediterranean, XIV: Reports 2002: 40–46. Shutt, R. J. H. 1985 Letter of Aristeas. P. 9 in The Old Testament Pseudepigrapha, ed. J. H. Charlesworth. Garden City, NY: Doubleday. Stern, M. 1981 Eretz Israel in the Hellenistic Period [332–160 b.c.e.]. Pp. 9–190 in M. Stern (ed.), History of Eretz Israel: The Hellenistic Period and the Hasmonaean State [332–37 b.c.e.]). Jerusalem: Keter. [Hebrew] Vent, M. S. 1989 The Painted Tomb from Wardian and the Antiquity of the Saqiya in Egypt. Journal of the American Research Center in Egypt 26: 219–22. Vincent, L. H. and Steve, A. M. 1956 Jérusalem de l’ancien testament, 2ème Partie. Paris: Gabalda. Vogt, E. 1974 Vom Tempel zum Felsendom. Biblica 55: 23–64. Vogüé, M. de 1864 Le temple de Jérusalem. Paris. Watson, C. M. 1896 The Site of the Temple.” PEFQSt 28: 47–60, 226–28. Wilson, C. W. 1876 Ordnance Survey of Jerusalem in the Years 1864 to 1865. Southampton: Ordnance Survey Office. 1980 Ordnance Survey of Jerusalem 1865, Sheet 1: Haram Grounds &c. (Facsimile Edition) Jerusalem: Ariel. Yadin, Y. 1956 The First Temple. Pp. 176–190, in Sefer Yerushalaim: The Nature, History and Development of Jerusalem from its Beginning to the Present, ed. M. Avi-Yonah. Jerusalem and Tel Aviv: Mosad Bialik and Dvir. [Hebrew] 1983 The Temple Scroll, vol.1. Jerusalem: Israel Exploration Society. Yeivin, Sh. 1968 The Temple Vessels. Pp. 341–46 in vol. 5 of Encyclopaedia Biblica. [Hebrew] Zayadine, F., Larché, and Dentzer-Feydy, J. 2003 Le Qasr al-Bint de Petra: L’architecture, le décor, la chronologie et les dieux. Paris: Editions Recherche sur les Civilisations.

Has the Adiabene Royal Family “Palace” Been Found in the City of David? Doron Ben-Ami and Yana Tchekhanovets Israel Antiquities Authority

Introduction In March 2007, excavations began in the City of David parking facility known as the Givati lot. The excavation area is located on the northwestern side of the City of David spur, along the eastern fringes of the main valley that delimits the spur on the west (the Tyropoeon Valley––the “Valley of the Cheesemongers,” according to Josephus’ description [ J.W. 5.4.1]). The excavation at the site, part of a multiyear project run by the Israel Antiquities Authority, in cooperation with the Israel Nature and Parks Authority and the Elad Association, is directed by the authors. 1 Twelve occupational strata could be distinguished, some of which consisted of several phases. The earliest stratum (XII) dates to the Iron Age II and the latest (Stratum I) to the Early Islamic period. The Late Roman (Stratum VI) and Early Roman (henceforth, Late Second Temple; Stratum VII) periods present the most prominent remains at the site. Architectural remains dated to the Hellenistic period (2nd–1st centuries b.c.e.) were also present (Stratum VIII).

The Spacious Late Second Temple Edifice A complex of walls and installations dating to the time of the Second Temple was discovered immediately below the remains of the Late Roman period. As the excavation progressed, it became clear that these remains constituted part of an extraordinary architectural complex occupying a major part of the site under examination. This complex, dated to the end of the Second Temple period (1st century b.c.e.–1st century c.e.) according to the pottery and coins, consisted of two main building units. The Southern Unit The Southern Unit includes a large, impressive edifice of which only its northeastern corner has been revealed to date. This monumental building continues farther west, as well as to the south––beyond the limits of the excavated area. The eastern wall of the building, more than 14 m of which have been exposed, rises to a height of more than 5 m and is approximately 2 m thick. The wall is built of large, roughly dressed fieldstones, some of which weigh hundreds of kilograms. The 1.  The excavations were directed by the authors with the assistance and participation of a devoted staff: Area supervisors were S. Behar, D. Gotreich, N. Nissim Ben-Ephraim, and A. Zilberstein.

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Fig. 1.  Jerusalem in the Second Temple Period (after Bahat 1990).

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Fig. 2.  The Givati parking lot excavations, aerial view (photograph by Sky View).

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Fig. 3.  The Second Temple period spacious building. Note the breach in the wall in the background; looking southeast (photograph by Tsila Sagiv, IAA).

structure’s northern wall is about 1 m wide and is preserved to a similar height. The walls of this structure were so formidable that the builders of the massive foundations of the Late Roman walls, which were excavated to a great depth in this place, utilized them as a solid foundation for their own impressive buildings. The interior of the building indicates a division into elongated halls. So far, we have exposed the eastern part of three of these, although the possibility should not be negated that additional halls are situated to the south. The halls were preserved to a height of at least two storeys. The basement level of these halls was covered with vaults made of neatly worked, white, rectangular limestone. The bottom courses of the vaults remained in situ, while the remaining vaults were found within heaps of collapse resulting from the building’s destruction. The original plaster still covered the walls of the second storey. The remains of colored frescoes, adorned by panels in shades of red, yellow, and green, framed by thin black lines, were discovered in the debris of the collapsed building. The column bases, column drums and shafts, parapets, and capitals found incorporated within the wide foundations of the Late Roman walls seem all to have been part of a large Second Temple period architectural complex. The Northern Unit Adjacent to the northern side of the building were a number of plastered water installations, some of which are ritual baths (miqvaʾot). These miqvaʾot were dug

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Fig. 4.  Halls and niche in the spacious building; looking east.

into the ground, rather than quarried in the bedrock as is the case with most of the ritual baths discovered in Jerusalem. These water installations served the residents of the building itself and should be considered part of a wing of the building designated and used for purification purposes. Near the end of the building’s existence, prior to its destruction in 70 c.e, its occupants, who must have sensed the impending danger, tried to escape via the basement. They created narrow openings in the walls of the building, which could be camouflaged when necessary. However, these attempts to save themselves proved to be of no avail—the entire building seems to have been intentionally demolished. The enormous fieldstones from the top courses of the walls were toppled, destroying the vaults of the basement story. In addition, the floors of the halls caved in. The vault-stones were discovered together with those of the walls; all lay in a jumble in the destruction layer that came to rest on the basement floor. Fragments of shattered pottery vessels were discovered among the heaps of debris. Numerous fragments of stone vessels were discovered throughout the building. Both pottery and coins indicate that the building was demolished in 70 c.e., along with the destruction of Jerusalem at the end of the Second Temple period. The exposure of this edifice of striking proportions dated to the end of the Second Temple period raises questions regarding its function and identification. The

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Fig. 5.  Remains of a barrel vault in the northern hall (photograph by Tsila Sagiv, IAA).

numerous excavations that have been conducted in the City of David to date indicate that impressive construction on a scale such as this, which is independent of the city’s fortifications, is completely unknown in this part of the city. Most building remains of the Second Temple period in the City of David are domestic in nature and often include miqvaʾot. Even the most magnificent among these, however, do not compare in terms of size and quality to the complex under discussion. The descriptions of Josephus, who witnessed the events that transpired in the land of Israel in general and Jerusalem in particular, both prior to and following the destruction of the Second Temple, are the most important source for any attempt at reconstructing the urban layout of Jerusalem on the eve of the destruction (especially J.W. 5.4.1). Nineteenth-century scholars were the first to map out the features of Jerusalem as portrayed in Josephus’ descriptions. Many others have since used the same approach. Common to all these reconstructions is the location of the city’s principal buildings. With regard to the City of David, suggested reconstruc-

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Fig. 6.  A Second Temple period architectural element uncovered in a Late Roman wall.

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tions are particularly consistent. This hill, which Josephus refers to as the “Lower City,” is separated from the hill that is adjacent to it to the west––the “Upper City”––by the Tyropoeon Valley ( J.W. 5.4.1). Most of the construction within the relatively small area of the City of David was residential in nature, with hardly any public or monumental structures. The only impressive buildings––which constituted such an anomaly in the landscape of the Lower City that they became landmarks in Josephus’ chronicle of the events on this hill on the eve of the destruction–– were those erected by the members of the royal family from Adiabene ( J.W. 4.9.10; 5.6.1; 6.6.3).

The Kingdom of Adiabene (Hadyab): Historical Background The Kingdom of Adiabene, or Hadyab in Aramaic, was situated in northern Mesopotamia, the present-day region of Iraqi Kurdistan (Hansman 1985: 277–78; Sellwood 1985: 277–78). The first king of Adiabene of whom we know was Izates I, who reigned toward the end of the 1st century b.c.e. His son Monobazus I and daughter Helena married each other and ruled Adiabene at the beginning of the 1st century c.e. Two sons, Izates II and Monobazus II, were born to them. After the death of Monobazus in 30 c.e., a power struggle ensued among the courtiers in the kingdom. Following the conflict, Izates II, the younger of the two brothers, seized control of the throne. Izates II was the first member of the royal family to convert to Judaism. Shortly thereafter, his mother Helena followed in his footsteps and also became a proselyte to Judaism. During his reign, Izates sent five of his sons (Helena’s grandsons) to Jerusalem in order to learn the Hebrew language and the laws of the Torah (Neusner 1964: 60–66; 1966: 144–46). In 46 c.e., Helena decided to make a pilgrimage to the Temple in Jerusalem (Ant. 20.2.6). During this period, the residents of the city had suffered a severe famine, and many died. Helena decided to assist the starving inhabitants and sent messengers on her behalf to Alexandria. Boatloads of wheat were sent from there and from Cyprus, dried fruit was shipped to nourish the populace. Her son, King Izates II, also sent aid to the city at that time. During the years that followed, Helena and her sons continued to help Jerusalem’s residents and even made donations to the Temple. People that financed the restoration of objects from the Temple or were responsible for other positive deeds are praised in the Mishnah within the context of

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Fig. 7.  A suggested reconstruction of the spacious building (courtesy of the Merlin Group).

religious laws regulating the high priests’ responsibilities in the Temple on Yom Kippur. Helena and her son Monobazus are specifically mentioned among others: . . . the king Monobazus made all the handles of the utensils used on the Day of Atonement—of gold. Helen, his mother, made a golden candelabrum over the temple-gate. She likewise made a tablet of gold, whereon was inscribed the section about a woman who goes aside (m. Yoma 3:10).

According to Josephus, Helena and her sons erected large buildings in the Lower City. Among them are Helena’s “palace” and the court of King Monobazus and Graphty’s “palace.” These buildings were conspicuous, because they were supposedly the only strcutures of such large proportions within the Lower City. This part of the city was not inhabited by the Jerusalem aristocracy, which resided in the Upper City. From the various descriptions by Josephus, most scholars engaged in reconstructing the city at the end of the Second Temple period have concluded that the edifices connected to the building activity of the royal family from Adiabene should be located in the Lower City (Avi-Yonah 1976: 66; Bahat 1973: 13; Finley 1977: 226; Levine 2002: 321). This is also the basis for Avi-Yonah’s reconstruction of the row of large, impressive-looking edifices in the City of David in his famous model of Jerusalem from the time of the Second Temple that is now on display at the Israel Museum. With the death of Helena in about 60 c.e., the convert-queen was interred in a royal tomb that she and her sons had prepared beforehand, located a distance of three furlongs north of the city ( J.W. 5.4.1; Ant. 20.4.3). De Saulcy was the first to excavate this tomb in 1863. Three decorated sarcophagi and two sarcophagi lids were found. On one of the sarcophagi was an Aramaic inscription “‫צדן מלכתא‬,” and inside it were the remains of a woman’s skeleton dressed in a garment adorned with gold. Among the other artifacts recovered from the tomb were pottery vessels, lamps, glass, alabaster vessels, as well as other finds (de Saulcy 1865: 310–45; 1882: 224–41).

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Conclusions The size of the building uncovered in the northwestern part of the City of David, the dimensions of its impressive walls, and the architectural wealth and the purification wing with its numerous installations indicate that this was undoubtedly a prominent landmark in the urban landscape of Jerusalem during this period. The severe destruction that befell it, which was dated by the artifacts discovered in its various halls as part of the overall devastation of the city by the Romans in 70 c.e, reinforces the sense that prior to its destruction the building would have been visible when looking in the direction of the Lower City. Its location in the northernmost part of the City of David hill (the Ophel), close to the southern edge of the Temple Mount, also indicates its importance. The results of the various archaeological excavations so far in the City of David are in keeping with this conclusion, emphasizing it as an anomaly in the landscape of the Lower City at the time of the Second Temple. A measure of caution should, of course, be adopted prior to making a decisive determination with regard to the historical commentary that we ascribe to the building. In our opinion, it seems that the attempt to connect it to one of the edifices that the kings of Adiabene erected in the Lower City of Jerusalem is not without basis. We hope that with the planned expansion of the excavation area in the next seasons finds will be discovered that will aid us in identifying this architectural complex.

References Avi-Yona, M. 1976 Jerusalem in the Second Temple Period. In: B. Mazar et al. (eds.), EAEHL, s.v. “Jerusalem.” [Hebrew] Bahat, D. 1973 Carta’s Historical Atlas of Jerusalem: A Brief Illustrated Survey. Jerusalem: Carta. 1990 The illustrated Atlas of Jerusalem. Dan Bahat, with Chaim T. Rubinstein; translated by Shlomo Ketko. Jerusalem: Carta. Finley, M. I. 1977 Atlas of Classical Archaeology. London: Chatto and Windus. Hansman J. F. 1985 “Arbela.” In: Yarshater E. (ed.), Encyclopedia Iranica, vol. II, pp. 277–78. Levine, L. I. 2002 Jerusalem: Portrait of the City in the Second Temple Period (538 b.c.e.–70 c.e.). Philadelphia: Jewish Publication Society. Neusner J. 1964 Conversion of Adiabene to Judaism: A New Perspective. JBL 83: 60–66. 1966 The Conversion of Adiabene to Christianity. Numen 13: 144–50. Saulcy, F. de 1853 Voyage autour de la Mer Morte et dans les terres bibliques, execute de decembre 1850 a avril 1851. Paris: Gide et J.Baudry. 1865 Voyage en Terre Sainte. Paris: Didier. 1882 Jerusalem. Paris: Morel. Sellwood D. 1985 “Adiabene.” In: Yarshater E. (ed.), Encyclopedia Iranica, vol. I, pp. 277–78.

The Pool of Siloam in Jerusalem of the Late Second Temple Period and Its Surroundings Ronny Reich and Eli Shukron

University of Haifa, Israel Antiquities Authority

Digging for a new sewer at the southernmost edge of the Tyropoeon Valley resulted in the chance discovery of some stone steps. The area is located within the small alley between the rock scarp that bound the City of David on the southeast and the wall of the expansive orchard located in the large depression known as Birkat al-Hamra. The ensuing excavation carried out by the authors exposed the eastern part of a large stone-lined stepped pool. 1 The place of discovery is located some 70 m to the south of the small pool, identified by all as the Pool of Siloam. The southern end of the Siloam Tunnel, which channels the water of the Gihon Spring, connects with the Pool of Siloam. From that pool, the water is led by a channel that runs along the foot of the rock scarp. In antiquity, this channel was partly exposed and at one time was considered by scholars to have functioned as the “overflow channel” of the Siloam Tunnel. The discovery of the new pool has changed this interpretation (see below).

Former Excavations at the Site and Within its Vicinity Small-scale excavations were carried out here in the 19th century. The first to follow the “overflow channel” for some distance was C. Schick. In 1881, H. Guthe resumed Schick’s work, expanding it into an excavation (Guthe 1882) in an attempt to obtain data on the small pool into which the Siloam Tunnel flows. His main discoveries were the remains of a Byzantine church. In 1894–97, F. J. Bliss and A. Dickie resumed digging the church and the adjacent pool (Bliss and Dickie 1898: 178–210). This is the Church of Siloam that was constructed in the 5th century c.e. by the Empress Eudocia to commemorate Jesus’ miracle of healing the man who was blind from birth ( John 9; and see below). Bliss and Dickie (1898: 96–114; frontispiece) exposed considerable parts of the wall built across the Tyropoeon Valley. This wall, which appears on their plans as a double wall, is now located under the street that follows the course of the Kidron Valley upstream. On its southern face, the excavators have identified several 1.  The excavations were carried out by the authors on behalf of the Israel Antiquities Authority. Workers were hired from the local village of Silwan. T. Kornfeld, W. Esman: Surveying and Drawing; W. Neikhin: Photography. Assistance was extended by the City of David Foundation, the Israel Nature and Parks Authority, the East Jerusalem Development company, and the Gihon Company.

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Fig. 1.  Pool of Siloam: general view, looking southeast.

buttresses, constructed of ashlars, which were made to reinforce the wall, most probably in the late Second Temple period. On the northern, intramural face of this wall and next to the southeastern corner of the Birkat al-Hamra orchard, they excavated a small shaft (Bliss and Dickie 1898: 176–77, Shaft E3). A flight of five steps was exposed at the bottom of this shaft, descending northward. Bliss and Dickie recorded these without being aware of their significance. K. Kenyon, who excavated in the City of David and within its vicinity in 1961– 67, uncovered a massive wall (her Area F) next to the southwestern corner of Birkat al-Hamra (Kenyon 1964: 10–11, Pl. VA). Kenyon dated the wall to the 1st century c.e, a conclusion that was rightly rejected by N. Avigad (1983: 60), who attributed it to the Iron Age II. The southeastern extension of this wall appears to have originally dammed the Tyropoeon Valley, thus causing the formation of the pool. Bliss’s

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Fig. 2.  Stone paved esplanade north of Pool of Siloam, looking east.

and Dickie’s buttressed wall seems to be a late Second Temple period reinforcement of this early wall. Y. Shiloh’s excavations (1978–85) barely reached the margins of this area (Area A1). The remains discovered on top of the rock cliff (Area A2) are not related to it, despite their proximity to the pool (Shiloh 1984: Pl. 7:1; De Groot and Glick 1992). The area excavated in the Kidron (Area A2) just touches the “overflow channel” and Channel II, which reaches the area from the Gihon, after running down the Kidron Valley. A. De Groot conducted a small rescue excavation at the western edge and above Birkat al-Hamra (De Groot 1995). Recently, Z. Greenhut (2006, and this volume) excavated a nearby area located slightly higher on Mt. Zion. Neither excavation has revealed remains that are connected directly to the pool.

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The Stepped Pool The site we excavated lies within public domain, between the above-mentioned orchard and a rock cliff. Most of this area was found to be covered with a thick layer (4 m and more) of mud, devoid of any construction stones. This layer contained a number of medieval potsherds, possibly from the Mamluk period. The main discovery of our excavation was made in the eastern section of the area exposed, consisting of a large stepped and stone-lined pool (Reich and Shukron 2005; Shanks 2005). The excavation has exposed the entire northeastern side of the pool from one corner to the other, some 50 m away. The steps descend from the pool’s rim to its bottom in a repeated interval of five steps and a broad landing. Three series of five steps and landings were exposed. Unfortunately, we could not continue to check how far down the tiers of steps continue, since the main part of the pool and its bottom is located within the orchard, which is located on private property. A narrow section cut between the trees might reveal those missing details. This arrangement of steps and landings continues beyond the corners, and it seems that the entire pool, all around, was designed and constructed in this fashion. It should be noted that the part of the stepped pool excavated west of the southeastern corner belongs to the steps exposed by Bliss and Dickie (1898: 176–77), who were not aware of the purpose of the steps. This disposition of steps and landings facilitated the use of the pool, allowing users to adjust to the various water levels. In order to reach the water, one had to descend to the lowest exposed landing. From there, one could easily draw or drink the water or possibly take a ritual bath. Although the pool was only partially exposed, it is rather obvious that it originally belonged to a large and impressive monument. Not much imagination is required to assess the size of the pool, which must have occupied the entire width of the Tyropoeon Valley. The stepped sides most likely continued all around. The pool was probably trapezoidal, widening as it progressed toward the bottom of the valley. Its outer measurements were close to 50–60 m × 50 m. Two construction phases could be observed in the pool. Most of the exposed structure visible today—namely, the stone-lined stepped pool—belongs to the later phase. In several places where the stone facing is missing, steps of an earlier phase are visible. These earlier steps were made of rubble set in gray cement and plastered over with a gray plaster of the same type. The gray plaster and the smooth finish of the steps with their rounded edges and corners recalls features known from contemporary ritual baths (miqvaʾot ) of the late Second Temple period, which have been found in large numbers in Jerusalem (Reich 1990). We believe that specialists in the construction of miqvaʾot were hired to construct the pool of the earlier phase. The stepped and plastered pool carries the marks of the large number of people that visited it; the plastered steps indicate signs of weathering and crumbling probably resulting from extensive use by the crowds. At some point, the initiative was taken to reface the pool’s surface with ashlar blocks. To the vertical face of each step a line of well-cut stone blocks was abutted, and the narrow gap that remained

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was filled with gray cement and small rubble. The facing proceeded from the pool’s bottom and upward, with each stone step covering the margins of the neighboring stone below, until the entire pool was faced with stone.

The Northern Esplanade Beyond the northern limits of the stepped pool a stone-paved esplanade was partially exposed. Only a narrow and elongated area of this esplanade, running in an east–west direction across the entire width of the Tyropoeon Valley, was exposed (Reich and Shukron 2006a). The paving is made of well-cut and precisely dressed limestone slabs. Apart from the small size of the stones, the quality of stonework resembles those found in the paved street along the western wall of the Temple Mount. A wide stylobate (ca. 2.5 m wide) rising ca. 10 cm above the paving separates the area located in between the northern edge of the stepped pool and the esplanade. This stylobate originally supported a colonnade, or even a double colonnade, which created a narrow portico across the valley. Several column drums and Doric capitals were found. One drum bore a mason’s mark consisting of the Hebrew letters ḥet and ṣade and three vertical strokes. In addition, a rectangular recess is visible in the vertical rock scarp bordering the area on the east, immediately above the stylobate. This recess was cut to carry the easternmost architrave of the colonnade. The bottom of this recess is ca. 3.5 m above the stylobate, which corresponded to the original height of the columns. The width of the recess corresponds to the diameter of the column drums. In addition to the column drums and the large ashlars, which are characteristic of Second Temple period architectural fragments, are small, roughly shaped cubic knobs attached to the drums and ashlars. These were intended to facilitate the hoisting of the drums and ashlars with ropes. Once the building process was completed, they would have been chiseled away. Often, however, they were left untouched or only partially chiseled away, perhaps overlooked. Years ago, a small segment of this paved esplanade was exposed by Bliss and Dickie. Their discovery consisted of the esplanade’s westernmost section, as well as the bottom part of a stepped and stone-paved street following the course of the Tyropoeon Valley and connecting between Temple Mount to the esplanade.

Dating the Pool The pool was found covered with a thick (4–5 m high) layer of silt, devoid of any construction. The silt contained a few stray pottery sherds of medieval date. These, obviously, had no bearing on the date of construction or use of the pool. Scanning the face of the pool with a metal detector resulted in the discovery of several coins, which were embedded in the gray cement of the earlier construction phase. All coins were minted under Alexander Jannaeus (the “barbaric” types). Although this discovery provides only a terminus post quem for the construction of the pool, it seems that the first phase of the pool occurred sometime during the middle of the 1st century b.c.e. The second phase must have been created sometime later, in the earlier part of the 1st century c.e.

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Fig. 3.  Various holes on a landing of the Pool of Siloam; they may have accommodated wooden poles to which mats were attached to close off an area for ritual bathing in the nude.

Upon the stone-paved esplanade just northeast of the pool are large collapses of building stones. Among them, pottery sherds and stone vessel fragments were uncovered, all typical of the 1st century c.e. It appears that they fell onto the paving from the top of the nearby eastern hill (the former City of David). Furthermore, large quantities of coins, all minted by the rebels against Rome (mainly coins of “Year Two,” “Year Three,” and some “Year Four” of the Great Revolt; 67–69 c.e.), were found. Large amounts of similar finds, including coins, were retrieved from the drains under the paving and the stepped streets (see below). All these point clearly to the fact that the esplanade and paved street, and in fact the entire area, went out of use and fell into neglect with the sack of Jerusalem in 70 c.e. This conclusion also applies to the stone-lined and stepped pool.

Identifying the Pool The stepped pool, of which we exposed the eastern section as well as the northeastern and southeastern corners, should be identified with the Pool of Shiloah of the late Second Temple period. The rabbinic writings refer to the entire water system of that period, including the spring, the water-carrier from the spring to the pool (the old tunnel attributed to Hezekiah), and the pool, as Shiloah. This is the

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place mentioned in John (9:7), relating the story of Jesus of Nazareth healing the blind man. We assume that the biblical Pool of Shelah (Neh 3:15) was also located in this part of the valley. We hope that some day excavation below the steps of the pool (underneath the steps of the first phase) will be possible. If we were to uncover pottery sherds from the Persian period and/or from the late Iron Age II, we would be able to confirm this suggestion beyond doubt. The excavations that exposed the stepped pool required the cleaning of the stillactive water channel. The latter runs along the foot of the high rock scarp, marking the City of David boundary on this side. In the past, the channel was believed to serve as the “overflow channel” of the Siloam Tunnel. Before the new discovery of the pool, we had argued, contra D. Ussishkin (1976), that the channel could not possibly be a part of the Siloam Tunnel (Reich and Shukron 2006). The present excavation demonstrated clearly that this channel was constructed at the same time as the pool, constituting in fact the channels feeding the Pool of Siloam. Close to the southern end of this channel, just before it crosses the southern damming wall of the Tyropoeon Valley, a short channel branches off and heads toward the stepped pool. This branch was found blocked. As we cleared it, two vertical and narrow grooves were exposed, which would have accommodated a wooden plank that could have served as a sluice, controlling and regulating the water-flow from the main channel into the pool.

The Tyropoeon Dam Beyond the edges of the staircase, which delimits the southern side of the stonelined pool, a small probe was excavated. As a matter of fact, this area was previously excavated by Bliss and Dickie (their Shaft E3). Under the street that bounds the City of David from the south, we encountered the northern intramural face of a massive wall that was founded on bedrock. Since this area had already been partially excavated, we found no original undisturbed occupation layers that could have indicated the time during which this intramural space was in use. Therefore only very late pottery sherds (Ottoman) and loose grayish debris were uncovered, probably constituting the material that Bliss and Dickie had used to fill in their excavated shaft. We found that the wall was constructed of small, roughly squared stones, set in a yellowish clay mortar. This is currently the only indication of its early date, probably Iron Age II, in which lime-based cement and plaster were not yet in use. This section constituted only a small part of the entire massive wall that Bliss and Dickie had already encountered, which had a dual function. It served as a damming wall across the Tyropoeon, and also was part of the city’s fortification system. The wall’s western extremity was excavated by Kenyon (1974: 246, Area F) in the 1960s. At the bottom of the probe, under the stone-lined, stepped pool and abutting the northern face of the dam-wall, we exposed the remains of 3–4 plastered steps. This flight of steps descends to the southwest—that is, toward the bottom of the Tyropoeon Valley. These steps relate to the wall, meaning that they were

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contemporaraneous with or postdated it (but antedated the stepped pool of the late Second Temple period). Additional data for dating these steps more accurately is not yet available.

The Use of the Pool of Siloam It is an obvious fact that the pool had the capacity to hold water that could serve a large number of people, mostly Jewish pilgrims who stayed in the city during the main annual festivals (Passover, Pentecost, and Tabernacles). It is more difficult to determine whether the pool was used for ritual immersion prior to the pilgrims’ visit to the Temple Mount. The story of Jesus of Nazareth sending a blind man, whose eyes he had just smeared with mud, to wash in the Pool of Siloam ( John 9:7) may be of some help. It supports the notion that the man was not sent just to wash his face and clear it of the mud, which he could have done anywhere in the city by using a small amount of water kept in a jar or flask. Whenever someone was cured from a disease, their recovery had to be confirmed by a priest. Then, in order to complete the process of recovery, the person had to immerse in a ritual bath and take an offering to the Temple. Only then was he or she entitled to return to the community. Jewish religious law differentiates among various types of water (m. Miqw. 1:1–8), with spring water considered to be the purest kind and the only type to be recognized as “living” (after Lev 15:13). Water that accumulated in the pool certainly qualified for use in ritual immersion and purification, as it came directly from the Gihon Spring via the 530-m-long Siloam Tunnel. In this respect, the water stored in the pool was superior to that stored in all the miqvaʾot found in Jerusalem. The water in the pool came from a natural spring whereas miqvaʾot held rainwater. As a result, the Pool of Siloam constituted the only easily accessible public place containing spring water. One could also use the spring itself; however, there, only one person could access the water at the time. The main problem in defining the newly discovered pool as a place for ritual immersion and purification is the question of personal modesty in the presence of a large crowd. Proper ritual immersion required that no object or garment separate the body from the water (the state of hazizah). The person had to be totally nude when entering the water for full-body immersion. The Pool of Siloam was most likely situated within the pubic domain, and it would have been inconceivable for completely nude men and women to access the water in the presence of hundreds of people. Part of the problem could have been solved by closing off specific areas within the pool. This could have been achieved by using temporary structures consisting of mats held by wooden poles. Numerous vertical holes in the stone steps may have served this purpose. It is also possible that many pilgrims were not as strict in this matter as the inhabitants of Jerusalem might have been. They could have entered the water with a loincloth or a wide chiton, which could be taken off while in the water and put on again before emerging from it.

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There are additional arguments that support the identification of this pool as a large place used for the purpose of ritual immersion. As indicated above, during a first phase of construction, the pool’s steps were made of rubble and gray cement. The same method was used to build numerous miqvaʾot in Jerusalem and at other Jewish sites elsewhere (Reich 1990). There is no doubt that this phase involved builders specializing in the construction of miqvaʾot. Alternating between five narrow steps and one with a wide tread or landing was another unique characteristic known in the context of miqvaʾot. This arrangement facilitated the descent into the water––regardless of its depth––and a safe immersion. When the pool was completely filled, one could stop at the first landing. When the water level was lower, one could descend to the second landing, or even lower. In addition to the common miqvaʾot of the late Second Temple period, of which more than 150 have been discovered in Jerusalem, some other parallels are worth mentioning. The closest parallel in terms of size and other typological features is the Pool of Bethesda located to the north of the Temple Mount (within the St. Anne Church compound). Although excavated in the 1950s, the site was also studied recently by S. Gibson (2005). It consists of two adjacent pools of enormous dimensions. Here, one flight of steps descends from a single direction, unlike at the Pool of Siloam, where stairs descend from all around. In this regard, other than its size, the Pool of Bethesda resembles the common miqveh type. The Bethesda steps are also made of rubble and gray cement, and wide steps alternate with a number of narrow steps (Gibson 2005: fig. 1). The main difference between the two pools is that the Pool of Siloam was spring-fed, whereas the Pool of Bethesda most likely collected rainwater. There is another type of miqveh that is similar to the Pool of Siloam, although smaller. Unlike the majority of miqvaʾot, which can only be accessed by one staircase, the latter type has staircases all around. So far, we know of two examples of this type in Jerusalem. One such installation, almost entirely preserved, was excavated by B. Mazar ca. 50 m south of the Triple Gate of the Temple Mount (Reich 1990: 417; E. Mazar 2000: 51). The other installation was uncovered by Avigad in the Jewish Quarter (Area Q, unpublished; see plan in Reich 1990: 429). In both cases, the steps are made in the gray cement and rubble technique, similar to those in the Pool of Siloam during its first phase of construction. Another feature common to the pools is that a series of steps of equal tread-size alternate with one step with a wide tread. In the light of these arguments there is no escape from defining the Pool of Siloam, or part of it, as a place where ritual immersion was taking place. Although many surmised that an ancient pool should be hidden somewhere within Birkat al-Hamra, which is under the present orchard, the discovery surprised us all. Many scholars opted for a pool dating to the Iron Age (which is still a possibility) and located the pool of the late Second Temple period in the Kidron Valley, outside the city walls. The stone-lined pool disappeared shortly after the sack of Jerusalem in 70 c.e. This happened due to the fact that the pool was located at the bottom of the Tyropoeon Valley, the lowest point in the city, and during the winter,

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rains and surface runoff moved considerable amounts of silt accumulating in the depression. During times when this area was heavily populated and the deposits would have been cleared on a regular basis. However, after having been abandoned, the stone steps began to disappear under the brown layer of silt and the area turned into a shapeless depression. Given the dampness of the soil, it was probably always covered with shrubs and bushes, as it is nowadays. When in the 5th century c.e., the Empress Eudocia ordered the construction of the Church of Siloam, to commemorate the act of the curing of the blind man by Jesus, the stone-lined pool was covered for almost 400 years. A church and a new pool were constructed some 70 m to the north, abutting the point where the waters immerge from the rock, at the southern end of the Siloam Tunnel. One can assume that if the Byzantine empress had been aware of the existence of the stone-lined pool, she would probably have ordered the clearance of the original pool, and the church would have been constructed farther to the south.

A Paved Esplanade and a Stepped Street Since the discovery of the pool, the following inquiries and excavations have been carried out. The system of channels that runs under the stone paved areas was cleared. These channels had already been partially studied in the 19th century by Schick and Guthe. The latter reported on the course of the channel in which the spring waters were running from the southern outlet of the Siloam Tunnel down to the Kidron Valley. In his published plan, one can detect the beginning of several channels whose course was not followed (Guthe 1882: Taf. II). A small pool was exposed east of the Byzantine pool, which he identified as the early Pool of Siloam, and the active water channel was defined as the overflow channel of the Siloam Tunnel––a name that our team retained. As previously mentioned, the active channel is not an “overflow channel” but the actual feeder-channel of the Pool of Siloam during the Second Temple period. When emerging from the Siloam Tunnel of the Iron Age II, one can observe a shallow channel cut into the bottom of the Byzantine Siloam Pool. The channel continues in a straight line, southward, approximately to the center of the Valley. A small segment of the southern extension of this channel was discovered under the stone paving of the large esplanade. This channel seems to have aimed at the “Pool of the Shelah” (Neh 3:15), or its predecessor in the late Iron Age II, which may be located today at the bottom of the valley in the center of the present orchard. Under this stone paving, the active channel branches off to the east. It is this channel, emerging at the eastern extremity of the stone-lined pool and feeding it, that was once referred to as the “overflow channel.” In addition to this channel, another one is located in the eastern part of the paved esplanade and along the western rock-cliff of the City of David. It runs in a north–south direction and was used as a drain for rainwater accumulating in the valley. The excavation has cleared approximately 40 m of it. Its inconsistent width and height allows a person to move through it only in a crouched position. The debris in it was water-sifted and was found to contain large amounts of pottery, all

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Fig. 4.  Narrow excavation along stepped street (eastern side) that ascends from the pool of Siloam along the Tyropoeon Valley. Note breaches in the drainage channels located under the street.

from the late Second Temple period, as well as hundreds of coins, mostly minted at the time of the Jewish revolt against Rome. Most astonishing are the contemporary cooking pots retrieved intact from within the drain (see below). Examining the cover stones of the drain from the inside indicated that the drain passed directly under a stone-paved stepped street. Following this observation, a segment of this street was excavated along the western slope of the City of David and east of the Byzantine Pool of Siloam. The team excavated a horizontal tunnel, ca. 2 m in width and height, following the course of the modern street. It should be stressed that this method, which should be avoided and is no longer common practice, was selected after the debris was probed extensively in the pool and along the paved esplanade and was found to exclusively consist of mud washed in by the runoff waters as well as of collapses

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Fig. 5.  Intact cooking pots discovered in drainage channel under the stepped street.

from the nearby cliffs and steep slope. The debris contained no later occupational phases and could therefore be excavated at a quicker pace. A segment of a stepped street was exposed, consisting of large limestone slabs meticulously set with alternating narrow and wide treads. This segment of stepped road, which ascends at the northeastern edge of the paved esplanade, resembles a similar segment exposed by Bliss and Dickie in 1898, following the course of the Tyropoeon Valley from the northwestern corner of the same paved esplanade. The Byzantine Pool and Church of Siloam were situated between these two sets of ascending stone-paved and stepped roads. One question to be investigated is whether these two series of steps originally converged at some point north of the Byzantine church or whether they were an extension of the paved esplanade continuing northward in the form of steps and ultimately narrowing as they adjusted to the natural narrowing of the valley. This type of stairs, with steps of alternating width, is known from other monumental staircases in Jerusalem, such as the stairs ascending to the Herodian gates at the southern wall of the Temple Mount (E. Mazar 2000: 40) and those descending to the Tomb of the Kings on the northern outskirts of Jerusalem (Kon 1947: Pl. IVb, figs. 2, 3).

Dating the Stepped Street As noted, the street went out of use when Jerusalem was sacked in 70 c.e, as attested by large amounts of pottery sherds, fragments of typical stone vessels, and other objects, and particularly by large numbers of coins dated to the Jewish revolt, all found in the collapsed debris discovered on top of the paving. Unlike the stepped pool, where we found coins contained within the cement underneath the stone pavement, no sealed deposits underneath the stone steps have

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been excavated as yet. Although numerous objects of the same type were found in the drain running underneath the street, they appear to be contemporaneous with the finds uncovered above the paving. For the time-being, we argue that this stepped and stone-paved street and the street exposed along the western face of the Temple Mount are contemporaneous. This conclusion is based on the fact that both paved segments (as well as the one exposed in between by Kenyon [1974: pls. 7, 100]) appear to form part of the same street. An additional indication is that neither street segment shows any sign of wear (minute signs of comb-chisel marks that appear on each stone). This suggests that the street was paved only a short time before Jerusalem was destroyed by the Romans. Within the area along the western wall of the Temple Mount, we were able to excavate below the paving level and to obtain ca. 15 coins (Reich and Billig 2000b). The latest of these coins was minted under Pontius Pilate (26–36 c.e.), which supports the dating to the last decades of civic life in Jerusalem. We may conclude that the present stepped street was most probably paved under Agrippa II in the 50s of the 1st century c.e, as indicated by Flavius Josephus (Ant. 20. 9.219–23). 2 A future probe below our stone steps may provide an even more precise date.

The Breaches in the Paving and Their Meaning The large flagstones were breached in several places, opening directly into the drain described above, their size large enough for a person to lower himself or herself into it. It should be stressed that within the collapse of stones and debris above the street, no large stones were found that may have caused the breaching of the flagstones (as were found in a previously excavated street segment uncovered along the western wall of the Temple Mount). The street’s flagstones are rather thick and are made of semi-hard limestone. There is no escape from the conclusion that these flagstones were breached deliberately, exactly above the drain. The following evidence supports this conclusion: The drain with the complete cooking pots, the breached flagstones above the drain, and the fact that all artifacts date to the later part of the Second Temple period, fit the dramatic description of Flavius Josephus of the refugees trying to escape from the city after its conquest by the Roman army in 70 c.e. As Josephus describes it: . . . a last and cherished hope of the tyrants and their brigand comrades lay in the underground passages, as a place of refuge where they expected that no search would made for them... they found immediate refuge in the ravine below Siloam . . . they were repulsed by the guards and dispersing hither and thither slunk down into the mines . . . for when all who showed themselves had been either slain or made prisoners by the Romans, the victors instituted a search for those in the mines, and, tearing up the ground, slew all whom they met; here too were found upwards of two thousand dead, of whom some had been destroyed by their own, and some by one another’s hands, but the greater number by famine” ( J.W. 6. 7. 370; 8. 401–2; 9. 429–30).

2.  All citations of Josephus are from the Loeb edition.

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Whoever survived the siege and capture of Jerusalem and was not slain by the Romans as they broke into the city sought shelter in the subterranean drainage system. This drainage system collected rainwater that did not flow into the numerous cisterns and from those to the pool and the Kidron Valley. A similar drain exists underneath the main street running along the western wall of the Temple Mount, some 600 m farther north. Most likely, the drainage system discovered underneath the dwellings in the “Upper City” converged on the main drain underneath the street in the Tyropoeon Valley. The refugees wisely chose this means of communication to escape unnoticed from the city. Some may have survived in this manner, but many, as transmitted by Josephus, were caught.

References Avigad, N. 1983 Discovering Jerusalem. Nashville: Thomas Nelson. Bliss, F. J., and Dickie, A. C. 1898 Excavations at Jerusalem, 1894–1897. London: Palestine Exploration Fund. De Groot, A. 1995 Jerusalem, the City of David. Hadashot Arkheologiyot 103: 66–67. De Groot A., and Glick, D. 1992 Area A2: Stratigraphic Report. Pp. 30–34 in Excavations at the City of David 1978– 1985, Directed by Yigal Shiloh, ed. A. De Groot and D. T. Ariel. Jerusalem: Hebrew University. Gibson, S. 2005 The Pool of Bethesda in Jerusalem and Jewish Purification Practices of the Second Temple Period. Proche-Orient Chrétien 55: 270–93. Greenhut, Z. 2006 A Second Temple Domestic Quarter on the Lower Slopes of the Western Hills – Jerusalem. Pp. 147–59 in New Studies on Jerusalem, ed. E. Baruch, Z. Greenhut, and A. Faust. Ramat Gan: Bar-Ilan University. [Hebrew, English abstract on p. 39*] Guthe, H. 1882 Ausgrabungen bei Jerusalem. Zeitschrift des Deutschen Palästina Vereins 5: 52–133, 355–76. Kenyon, K. M. 1964 Excavations in Jerusalem, 1963. Palestine Exploration Quarterly 96: 7–18. 1974 Digging Up Jerusalem. London: E. Benn. Kon, M. 1947 The Tombs of the Kings. Tel Aviv: Dvir [Hebrew]. Mazar, E. 2002 The Complete Guide to the Temple Mount Excavations, Jerusalem. Shoham Academic Press. Reich, R. 1990 Miqwaʾot (Jewish Ritual Baths) in Eretz-Israel in the Second Temple and the Mishnah and Talmud Periods. Unpublished Ph.D. dissertation. Hebrew University. [Hebrew] Reich R., and Billig, Y. 2000a Excavations Near the Temple Mount and Robinson’s Arch, 1994-1996. Pp. 340–52 in Ancient Jerusalem Revealed, ed. H.Geva. Reprinted and expanded edition, Jerusalem: Israel Exploration Society. 2000b Jerusalem, Robinson’s Arch. Excavations and Surveys in Israel 20: 135.* Reich, R., and Shukron, E. 1999 Light at the End of the Tunnel. Biblical Archaeology Review 25/1: 22­–33, 72.

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2005 The Siloam Pool during the late Second Temple period. Qadmoniot 130: 91–96. [Hebrew] 2006a The Discovery of the Second Temple Period Plaza and Paved Street Adjacent to the Siloam Pool. Pp. 59–69 in City of David Studies of Ancient Jerusalem 1, ed. E. Meiron. Ramat-Gan: Bar-Ilan University. [Hebrew] 2006b The Excavations of the ‘Rock-Cut Pool’ near the Gihon Spring, Jerusalem. Pp. 17– 21 in New Studies on Jerusalem, eds. E. Baruch, Z. Greenhut, and A. Faust. RamatGan: Bar-Ilan University. [Hebrew. English abstract on pp. 32*–33*] Shanks, H. 2005 The Siloam Pool – Where Jesus Cured the Blind Man. Biblical Archaeology Review 31/5: 16–23. Shiloh, Y. 1984 Excavations at the City of David I: 1978–1982. Interim Report of the First Five Seasons. Qedem 19. Jerusalem: Institute of Archaeology, The Hebrew University. Ussishkin, D. 1976 The Original Length of the Siloam Tunnel in Jerusalem. Levant 8: 82–95.

A Domestic Quarter from the Second Temple Period on the Lower Slopes of the Central Valley (Tyropoeon) Zvi Greenhut

Israel Antiquities Authority

During the peaks of its expansion in the First and Second Temple periods, Jerusalem extended across two hills, as we learn from the writings of Flavius Josephus ( J. W. 5.8.4 §1): The City was built, in portions facing each other, on two hills separated by a central valley, in which the tiers of houses ended. Of these hills, that on which the upper city lay was far higher and had a straight ridge than the other; consequently, owing to its strength it was called by King David––the father of Solomon the first builder of the temple––the Stronghold, but we called it the upper agora. The second hill, which bore the name of Acra and supported the lower city, was a hog’s back. . . . On the exterior, the two hills on which the city stood were encompassed by deep ravines, and the precipitous cliffs on either side of it rendered it nowhere accessible.

This description defines the location of rescue excavations conducted on the lower slopes of the Central Valley in the area known today as the City of David, 650 m above sea level, facing and above the Siloam Pool to the east (fig. 1). 1 The excavation area is delimited on its western side by an impressive terraced, quarried cliff rising 13 m above its surroundings (figs. 2 and 3). The plot is situated approximately midway between the Kathleen Kenyon excavations of Area O near the Byzantine Siloam Pool and Area F at the confluence of the Kidron and the Central Valleys (Kenyon 1974: 90, fig. 18; Ahituv and Mazar 2000: map at the end of the volume), but it is located slightly higher up on the slope. Area H of Yigal Shiloh’s excavations in the City of David, located on the same contour line as our area of excavation but farther to the north, should also be mentioned (De Groot and Michaeli 1992). 1.  The rescue excavations were carried out in May 2005 and alternately between May and November 2006 in order to prepare for the construction of a parking lot and a new building. The excavation was a result of archaeological field inspection and mechanical dump removal in January 2005. In the 2005 season, an east–west probe of 3 squares was opened in the middle of the plot, and in 2006 the total plot area was excavated. The excavations were directed by Z. Greenhut with the assistance of T. De’adale (field and administrative assistance), S. el-Amla (metal detection), V. Asman and V. Pirski (surveying), V. Pirski and D. Porotsky (isometric reconstruction), T. Sagiv (field photography), Sky Balloons (aerial photography), and R. Abu-Khalaf (administration). The material was treated in the IAA laboratories by I. Lidski (pottery drawing), C. Amit (laboratory photography), C. Hirsch (stone-weight drawing and plates preparation), L. Kuperschmidt (coins conservation), D. T. Ariel (Coins examination; see appendix to this article), and Y. Bukengoltz (pottery restoration).

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Fig. 1.  Top plan of the City of David, with the location of excavation area. North is at top.

Adjacent to our excavation area, but a short distance down the slope, a rescue excavation was conducted by De Groot in 1993 (De Groot 1996). The Central Valley and the recently excavated ancient Siloam Pool (Reich and Shukron 2005a; 2005b) are seen in their full glory from this vantage point. An area of ca. 175 sq m was excavated at the foot of the terraced, quarried cliff (figs. 4–6), and the remains cut into the cliff itself were recorded (fig. 5: section 1-1). To the north of this area, an additional strip (28 m long) was excavated. This strip narrowed toward the north; in the south it was 8 m wide while in the north it was only 2.5 m wide.

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Fig. 2.  Excavation area photo, looking west.

Fig. 3.  Aerial view of the rock cliff. A close-up.

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Fig. 4.  The excavation general plan.

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Fig. 5.  Sections 1-1 – 5-5.

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Fig. 6a.  Sections 6-6 – 11-11.

Another rectangular area (11 m long by 2–3 m wide) was exposed beneath the modern road, adjacent and to the east of the above strip (fig. 4), as a result of a plan to replace the existing infrastructure installations. 2 In the central area, a series of rock-hewn rooms, originally three stories high and extending the full height of the cliff, were revealed. These rooms apparently belonged to a single structure. While the plan of the structure can be partially reconstructed from the remains of the rock-hewn rooms, little remained of the other, outer stone-built walls of these rooms. Flattened bedrock was used as the floor of the various rooms in this structure. Only stepped floors remained from the upper story of the structure, the southernmost containing two cup-marks (fig. 7). Before the excavation started, it was assumed that any building enterprise should be related to one of two possible populations of ancient Jerusalem: Byzantine Christians, living in Jerusalem from the 4th to the 7th centuries c.e., or Jews who settled there in the late Second Temple Period. This assumption was based on our familiarity with this region from the results of previous excavations in the vicinity and our historical knowledge. Since the remains found in our excavation were covered with 2.  This small-scale rescue excavation took place during February 18–22, 2009, and was directed by Z. Greenhut and E. Shukron, with the assistance of A. Nagar (field assistance), V. Asman and M. Kunin (surveying), and A. Peretz (field photography).

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Fig. 6b.  Sections 12-12 – 14-14.

earthen dumps containing mixed pottery, not in situ and representing the history of occupation on the higher Western Hill, it was impossible to date them to any specific period. Certain features described below, however, point toward a Jewish occupation of this structure. At least three rooms, arranged in stepped terraces from north to south, belong to the middle storey (Rooms 105, 101, 102, and maybe 132) (fig. 5: Section 1-1). The rock cliff that served as their western side provides evidence that the rooms were vaulted. On this side, and on the rooms’ northern and southern quarried rock-walls as well, chisel-marks can be seen very clearly. The eastern part of these chambers is missing, and it seems that part of their southern and northern walls had also been removed or damaged in later periods. It is plausible that the eastern walls of these rooms were constructed walls, made of stone masonry, and it seems that the upper part of the north and south walls of these rooms was built in the same way, while their lower parts were hewn in the rock (fig. 5: Sections 3-3, 4-4). Evidence of the roofing of these rooms was found in the bedrock design; in Room 105, a row of square indentations was cut at the top of its western, rock-cliff side, 2.10 m above its floor, as well as another row, 0.60 m on top of the previous one, which was partially preserved (fig. 5: Section 1-1). These indentations prove that this room had been roofed, with wooden beams inserted into the indentations. Two other square indentations found in the west, rock side of Room 101, 2.50 m above its floor, served the same purpose. The roofing of Room 102, however, was rendered in a different technique: in the hewn western side of the room, a hewn groove (0.12–0.15 m high and 0.10 m deep), 2.25 m above its floor, was exposed for almost the whole width of the room. The base of this groove is flat and the upper part is rounded. Arched stones or arched wooden compartments that were part of vaults were inserted into this groove. The northern part of the groove does not reach the north wall of the room but ends 0.80 m south of the wall. This 0.80 m interval is in the shape of a chimney (0.70 m high); its upper part is cut, together with the rest of the rock, and its purpose is unclear. The chiseling marks in this rock-cut are similar to the rest of the marks found in hewn rock of the rooms as well as in the groove itself (fig. 5: section 1-1), indicating that all these elements were made at the same time. Identical chisel-marks appear also in the three vertical

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Fig. 7.  Photo of the lower part of the cliff and the 2005 probe at its foot.

grooves found in the western hewn rock wall of Room 105. These grooves (0.15 m wide) start from the level of the floor of the room; their height and the intervals between them (0.60–0.90 m) are not uniform. The grooves deepened into the rock concavely (0.20 m maximum depth) due to the convexity of the rock, and their purpose and function is unclear. The lower storey is composed of another set of hewn rooms, of which two rooms were entirely exposed (107, 109) and two only partially (121 in the north, 131 in the south; see figs. 3–6). The construction here, as before, is terraced from north to south. Room 121 (3.30 long from east to west, its width partly exposed to a distance of 2.30 m, 1.90 m high) has a hewn rock floor with natural recesses and fissures filled with natural terra rosa soil devoid of pottery. The rock cliff, which served as the western wall of this room, was plastered. Chisel marks were preserved on the full width of the wall’s upper part as well as on its lower, northern part, where the plaster is missing. A small section of the hewn ceiling was preserved, protruding from the cliff to the east. The southwestern corner of this room was exposed; plaster was preserved on its upper part, as well as on the lower, in the southern part of the western wall (fig. 5: section 1-1). The plaster consists of a white upper layer founded

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on a thick gray layer containing gravel stones. In the lower part of the southwest corner, from the floor level and above, an opening (0.50 m wide, 0.70 m high) with an angular frame was exposed (fig. 6a: Section 9-9), leading to a natural cavity that might have served for storage. This cavity exists beneath the partition rock separating Room 121 from Room 107 to its south (fig. 5: Section 1-1). The cavity opens into Room 107 as a natural opening (0.60 m wide, 0.75 m high). The hewn rock floor of Room 107 (3.40 m × 3.30 m × 2.20 m) was exposed; it, too, has natural recesses and fissures filled with natural terra rosa soil devoid of pottery. The western hewn wall and the preserved lower hewn parts of the northern and the southern walls of this room were also exposed. A similar hewn rock floor was exposed in Room 109 (3.70 m × 3.50 m × 3.50 m). The western hewn rock wall and the preserved lower hewn parts of the northern and southern walls of this room were also discovered (figs. 4 and 5: Sections 1-1, 2-2). An entrance (0.95 m wide) in the northeastern corner of the room leads into it via three hewn steps, the middle step cut by a hewn channel (fig. 4). The ceiling, as well as the rest of the enclosing walls of this room, is missing. A hewn rock stump (0.50 m deep) demarcates the northern wall of the room (figs. 4 and 5: section 2-2), while only the hewn foundation of the east wall (W2) was preserved. Chisel-marks, similar to those in the other rooms, appear on the western hewn wall of this room. A groove 2.20 m above the floor level was discerned (0.30 m high, 0.10 m deep). Here, too, the base of the groove is flat, while the upper part is rounded, allowing for the reconstruction of a vault inserted into it; but it should be noted that the width of this groove is double the groove in Room 102, suggesting that the vault here was thicker. The thickness of the vault of the ground floor indicates it might have supported additional stories above it. The groove is cut in the northern part by a fissure, probably natural, starting from the floor level of Room 101 and reaching the fissure in the wall of Room 109. A noteworthy phenomenon is the elongated niche (fig. 8) carved in the western wall of Room 109 (L111), adjacent to the room’s northeast corner. This is a high, narrow niche, its base raised 0.70 m from the floor level, with a domed, plastered ceiling that was disturbed in its northern part by the natural fissure that continues from the upper room’s floor level. On the northern, southern, and western sides of the niche are narrow, horizontal grooves arranged in two levels. White plaster is recognizable in the grooves and on their margins. These grooves were most probably for wooden shelves, suggesting that the niche served as a cupboard. Such niches are found in Second Temple period constructions in Jerusalem—for example, in the domestic structure (721) from Herod’s reign in Area E in the Upper City of Jerusalem. Three niches of this kind were hollowed in the western wall of this structure (Geva 2006a: 25, plan 1.2; Avigad 1983: 85–86, fig. 64); one of them (711a) also has narrow grooves in two facing sides for wooden shelves (Geva 2006a: 51–2, photo 1.63). The excavator interpreted two of these niches as cupboards in which various household commodities were stored in small pottery vessels and suggested that the room with which they were associated was used for storage and food preparation (Geva 2006a: 50). Niche 711a and the room with which it is associated,

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Fig. 8.  Photo of niche 111. Looking west.

(711), however, were interpreted as having special functions in the building in which they were discovered. It was suggested that Room 711 functioned as a reception and dining room, with the niche probably housing items of special value (Geva 2006a: 52). One cannot discount the possibility that the niche encountered in our excavation served the same purpose. An additional feature discerned in the excavation is the presence of plaster remnants in the northwestern corner of the room. Four successive whitish-gray layers of plaster were preserved. The second layer from the bottom includes small recesses that helped to support and provide a basis for adhesion of the plaster layers that coated it. The uppermost layer contained two horizontal grooves, and another groove was found carved into the bedrock, in an area where the plaster was not

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preserved (fig. 5: section 2-2). These grooves appear at regular intervals and suggest grooved frames of stuccowork on the walls of the room in a panel-like pattern. This decoration of a frame-pattern (panel) design as an imitation of structural elements belongs to one of five groups of stuccowork that were popular in the Herodian era (Rozenberg 2006: 341–43; Rozenberg and Peleg 2008: 475). The closest parallel is found in the large hall to the west of the courtyard of the palatial mansion in the Jewish Quarter in Jerusalem (Avigad 1983: 112, figs. 87, 88, 90, 101, 102; Geva 1993: 14–15). The presence of this kind of decoration in our excavation suggests that this room, too, as well as the room with the niches in Area E in the Upper City, might have served for reception and dining. This kind of decoration, together with the elaboration of the construction on the rock cliff, point to the high status and wealth of the Jewish community living in this part of the city. A small portion of the northwestern corner of another room (131) was exposed 4.80 m south of Room 109. The west side of this room was the rock cliff, preserved to its full height (fig. 5: section 1-1). The floor of this room, as well as its southern part, was not excavated. The rock surface (L122) between Rooms 109 and 131 slopes from north to south and remained untouched in its natural shape. The eastern edge of Room 107 is unknown. Its hewn rock floor runs eastward and joins rock floor L115 east of the entrance to Room 109 (fig. 6a: Section 6-6). A hewn staircase, L-shaped and consisting of five steps, descends from the level of rock floor L115 in its eastern side to the house’s cellar (L117) (fig. 9). The cellar is a rectangular room (3.40 m × 2.90 m); its north, west, and south walls are hewn in the rock, and the roof was not preserved. The walls are convex in section (fig. 5: section 5-5; fig. 6a: section 6-6), and in the middle of the north wall the beginning of a hewn arch was preserved. On these hewn walls a typical Second Temple Period gray plaster with charcoal inclusions was preserved. The room is enclosed on the east by a built wall (W1); only its foundation courses were preserved (figs. 4 and 6a: section 6-6). This wall continues northward and also encloses the northeastern corner of the whole building (see below). The wall (0.35 m wide) rests on a foundation (0.20 m high) built of small pebbles in white mortar. This foundation rests on the bedrock. In the center of the wall, by the north part of cellar L117, the wall is made of one course of two elongated limestone blocks resting on the foundation. The outer, eastern façade of one of these blocks has marginal dressing, and on the margins a delicate comb dressing can be seen (fig. 10). The hewn rock floor of the room is flat and is crossed by two natural fissures. This room is a plastered subterranean vault, mostly hewn in the bedrock. Judging by the manner it opens from the ground floor, it may be interpreted as the structure’s cellar. A similar cellar is known in one of the domestic buildings discovered by Avigad in the Jewish Quarter excavations (Reich, pers. comm.). In addition to many pottery sherds from the latter part of the Second Temple Period and a significant amount of pottery from Iron Age II, the fill in the cellar contained a well-preserved silver sheqel coin dated to year 2 of the Jewish War (pl.  4:2; see Ariel, pp. 294ff. below). In this respect, it should be noted that the entire excavation area revealed rich finds of pottery, stone vessels, and coins. All of these finds were retrieved from the accumulation of the fill above the bedrock and

268

Zvi Greenhut

Fig. 9.  Photo of cellar 117 and the staircase leading to it. Looking west.

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269

Fig. 10.  Photo of a stone in W1 with marginal dressing.

the hewed rooms and nothing was found in situ, meaning that the finds cannot be used to date the complex, but they surely represent the history of occupation on the higher western hill. The bulk of the finds belong to the later part of the Second Temple Period (ca. 70%), but of interest is the relatively large amount of ceramic material from the end of the Iron Age, the 8th–6th centuries b.c.e. (ca. 20%; see Table 1). These finds, albeit originating from an unsealed and undefined context, suggest the existence of settlement activity in these periods higher on the slope, on the Western Hill, and reflect the expansion of the city onto the Western Hill during the end of the Iron Age (Reich 2000). Few post-Second Temple-period ceramic and numismatic finds were retrieved in the excavation; of those present, they are dated primarily to the time between the Late Roman and the Early Islamic periods. In the northern part of the complex, on the same hewn line that continues the southern wall of Room 121 eastward, several architectural units were discovered. These include a flattened hewn rock (L120) separating Room 121 in the west and cellar L125 in the east. The cellar is an elongated room (4.15 m × 1.70 m, max. height in the west: 1.90 m); the foundations are all hewn in the rock (fig. 6a: sections 8-8, 9-9). The floor is hewn flat except for a north–south natural fissure (1.20 m × 0.40 m) crossing it slightly to the west of the room’s center. This space was found full of fallen ashlar blocks, originating from the upper part of the slope, and were ascribed as probably belonging to the walls enclosing the rooms in the upper stories. Noteworthy among these stones are a broken Ionic capital (fig. 11) and a long ashlar block (1.10 m × 0.33 m × 0.33 m); its front has marginal dressing

270

Zvi Greenhut

Fig. 11.  Drawing of a broken capital and an ashlar.

and a square boss with a delicate comb- dressing (fig. 11). The length of the stone’s base is crossed by a groove (0.07 m wide, 0.05 m deep), suggesting its use as a lintel. A rock-cut partition wall (W7) marks the eastern side of the cellar, with an opening (0.80 m wide) between it and the northern hewn wall. This opening leads to a miqveh to the east. In the east part of the cellar, adjacent to the north wall, a conical depression is hewn in the floor (0.50 m diameter, 0.40 m deep), fed by a short channel (0.40 m long, 0.03 m wide, 0.06 m deep) leading to it from the south. This depression served either as a small refuse pit in the room’s floor or for draining liquid spilled from broken storage-jars kept in this cellar (for parallels of these kind

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271

Fig. 12.  Photo of the ritual bath with otzar (L127+130). Looking north.

of depressions in storerooms with storage-jars, see the site of Kh. Khazan: Kloner and Tepper 1987: 120–21, fig. 47.) In this case, one should reconstruct cellar L125 as a storeroom. Adjacent to the north wall of the cellar and east of the depression, a step (1.20 m × 0.40 m × 0.25 m) is hewn in the rock. The location of the entrance to Room 125 is unclear; it might have been located in the niche (0.70 m wide, 0.80 m high) in the northern wall (marked A in fig. 6a: section 8-8), despite the fact that the round depression is located exactly beneath it, while the hewn step is slightly to the east of the niche’s base. A more likely possibility is that the entrance to the cellar was from the top, with a ladder, leading also to the miqveh behind it, thus allowing for private and discreet immersion. The hewn floor continues east of W7 at the same level as in cellar L125, having on its southern part a carelessly hewn oval depression (0.70 m × 0.40 m × 0.20 m; figs. 4 and 6a: sections 8-8, 9-9). The floor is bordered on the east with a thin rock side wall (0.20 m high), the top of which exhibits considerable wear, indicating long use and that this was its original height. This wall separates the floor from miqveh L127 to the east. The latter (figs. 4, 12, and 6a: section 9-9) is a plastered installation (2.40 m × 1.20 m) of the common built-up type well-known in Jerusalem. The southern (W4) and eastern (W1) walls are built of medium-sized field-stones. In the north, it is bordered by a partition wall separating it from another plastered installation, identified as the otzar (reservoir used to hold an extra amount of kosher/

272

Zvi Greenhut

legitimate water, functioning as a backup water container for the miqveh), and on the west it is bordered with the rock side-wall separating it from the floor to its west. Four steps lead into the immersion pool. All the steps are plastered except the uppermost step, where the plaster is missing; there, a core of small‑ and mediumsized field-stones can be discerned. The whole installation is plastered with three layers of gray plaster typical of the Second Temple period. Adjacent to the north side of the miqveh, a thin built wall separates it from another plastered installation (L130; 2.60 m × 0.80 m × 0.90 m). The north and west walls are rock-cut; the north wall is slightly rounded (figs. 4, 12, and 6a: section 7-7). The sides and the floor of this installation are plastered with two layers of plaster similar to that found in the miqveh itself. On the northwestern corner of the installation, the plaster reached its maximum preserved height (0.80 m high) above the floor level. It appears that the wall separating it from the miqveh was originally higher, and it was hollowed with a pinhole or pipe (abik is the term in the Mishnah) that enabled the water to flow into the immersion pool from its reservoir, allowing the mixing of water from the two installations. The corner of the eastern and northern walls of the otzar was also the corner of the whole structure; the eastern wall of the miqveh and the otzar is the continuation of W1. This ritual bath joins other tens of ritual baths found in Jerusalem (Reich 1990: 171–252), and together with an installation found in Area T-4 in the excavations of the Upper City of Jerusalem (Avigad 1983: 139–42, fig. 145), it is the second miqveh incorporating an immersion pool with an otzar. 3 It has been suggested that ritual baths with an otzar might reflect the influence of the Pharisaic sect of Second Temple Period Jewish society (Regev 2005: 408–9). The discovery of a ritual bath in our excavation, in an elaborate domestic complex, is noteworthy, considering that the Pool of Siloam is nearby. The current excavators of the pool have recently discussed the possibility that it served as a large public immersion installation appropriate for the demands of purity in Jewish law (Reich and Shukron 2006: 96; for a reconstruction of another public immersion installation of this kind, see Gibson’s proposal for the Bethesda Pool: Gibson 2005: 285–93). In light of this observation, the presence of an individual domestic miqveh needs to be understood against the presence of the nearby huge public ritual bath, suggesting the wealth and high status of this complex’s inhabitants. This reality might strengthen the assumption that ritual baths with an otzar reflect the presence of a certain class of the Jewish population in the Second Temple period, as was suggested by Regev. Part of a built-up vault (L133) was exposed 6 m north of the miqveh, in a section located beneath a modern house standing in this area (fig. 6a: section 7-7). 3.  Recently, it has been suggested that the Bethesda Pool is a Second Temple water installation that functioned as a miqveh with otzar (Gibson 2005: 285–93). This reconstruction is problematic due to the existence of the water tunnel at the bottom of the northern space, identified by Gibson as the “otzar.” In order to open the sluice-gate in the horizontal tunnel connecting the two basins, it was necessary to descend the 10-m–deep shaft at the top of the tunnel (Gibson 2005: 293, fig. 2). However, no such mechanism is known from any other ritual bath of the Second Temple Period (Reich 1990).

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273

Fig. 13.  Photo of the massive fill next to the wall enclosing cellar 117 on the east.

This is the north wall of a buried east–west vault. The vault is founded on bedrock, and its south wall was not discovered. Only three courses of well-cut ashlar stones (0.30 m wide and high; their length is unknown) of the north wall were exposed; the ashlars are made of the soft nari limestone and dressed with a delicate comb dressing. There was no way to excavate this vault, since it continued westward, beneath the existing modern house, but judging from its character, it can be ascribed to the late Second Temple period. A similar vault, dated to the same period, covers the Gihon Spring in the City of David (Reich and Shukron 2004: 219). An additional similar vault was discovered on the eastern slopes of Tell el-Ful by Gibson and me and was dated to the same period (unpublished). Two segments of a northwest–southeast wall (W3) were discovered south of cellar L117. It is constructed from one row of field-stones running along the rock scarp that creates its western limit. This wall was erected in order to diminish the differences in levels between the two rock terraces (fig. 5: section 3-3). The rock slopes steeply east of the wall (L124) in a series of stepped terraces down to the lowermost terrace exposed at the edge of the excavation. On this terrace, a corner of a structure was revealed, its walls (W5, W6) built of field-stones resting directly on bedrock. This corner leaned on the rock terrace to its west; its date and function could not be determined.

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Zvi Greenhut

Fig. 14.  W8 after removal of the fill covered its outer face. Looking southwest. Note the remnants of the white plaster on the wall’s face. To right, part of fill that was not removed by the excavation.

A fill containing large stones blocks, some of them ashlars, together with white mortar and white plaster (L113), was revealed east of W1. The top of this fill appears at the level of the top of the stones of the foundation course of W1 (fig. 13). This fill was preserved in the form of steps climbing from east to west, and it is uniform in matrix in all three steps that were preserved. This fill continues northward for another 25 m, bordered on the west by W8, which is the continuation of W1, and limited in the east by W9, which functions as its retaining wall (fig. 6a: section 1111). It appears to be a deliberately laid deposit that served as a means of leveling a street or a passageway east of the complex, leading from the main central street to the complex itself. W8 runs for 7.50 m from northwest to southeast, and it consists of two segments––northern and southern––that are separated by a wall-like hewn block of bedrock (1.20 m wide) stretching from west to east (fig. 6a: section 7-7). It appears that this hewn block should be assign to earlier quarrying and building activity at the site, prior to the construction of W8 and to the fill of the large blocks that is associated with it. W8 contains stones with delicate comb-dressing (fig. 6a: section 7-7), similar to the stone found in W1, and like W1 it served to enclose the east side of the domestic complex. Due to the existence of stones with marginal dressing in W8, it is ascribed, like W1, to the later part of the Second Temple period. The wall extends

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275

Fig. 15.  W9: view from above.

Fig. 16.  Downspout 139 draining the pavement flagstones of road 138. Looking north.

to the northwest, outside of the excavation area, beneath a modern concrete wall. The fill of the large blocks covered the eastern face of this wall, as was shown by the white plaster remnants that were preserved on the wall after the fill had been removed (fig. 14). The latest finds discovered in the fill, in places where no later

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Fig. 17.  Drainage channel (L151). Looking south-west.

intrusions were found, belongs to the Early Roman period, date W8 and W9 to the same period. Slightly down the slope, W9 extends for 10 m from northwest to southeast, parallel to W8 and adjacent to the modern road and sidewalk leading from the Old City’s southern wall toward the Siloam Pool. The outer, eastern face of this wall is well-constructed and regular, while its western side has an irregular face and is intermingled with the fill it retains (figs. 4, 15). The wall is constructed from stones of different sizes, but three very large stones (1.20 m long, 0.40 m wide) in its center, arranged in the header-stretcher technique, should be mentioned. On the northernmost edge of the fill that was retained by W9, a leveled surface laid with stones slabs was discovered. This find indicates that on top of the fill a local paved road was erected, probably leading from the main central street that runs through the Central Valley (Tyropoeon) to the domestic quarter on the lower slopes of the Western Hill. This road was drained by a series of five inclined plastered downspouts discovered in the northern part of W9. The northernmost downspout had been preserved completely, its head precisely reaching the road pavement (figs. 16 and 6a: section 10-10), indicating that these gutters drained the road toward the Central Valley located at its foot. 4 In this part, the outer face of W9 is plastered with thick plaster with a rounded top immediately below the top of the 4.  At the end of December 2006, all of the northern part of the road, except the northernmost gutter, was covered with fill on top of which a temporary parking lot was established.

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277

Fig. 18.  Remains of drainage channel (L156) resting on a foundation of small and medium stones. Looking west.

wall. This plaster was also discovered adjacent and to the east of the middle part of W9 while opening a new area in February 2009 (see n. 2, p. 262). On the northern side of the new area, the plaster was found to belong to a drainage channel (L151) sloping from the north to the south (figs. 4, 17). A full profile of this channel was preserved to a length of 4 m. The role of the channel was to collect the runoff water from the road via downspouts like those found 2–8 m north of the northern edge of the newly excavated area. The western side of the channel adheres and rests on the vertical face of W9 (0.50 m height), while the eastern side is less well preserved (0.20 m height) due to the existence of the infrastructure pipe lines. The channel section is asymmetric; its western side is almost perpendicular to its floor while the eastern part slopes gently and is curved at the meeting point with the floor (fig. 6b, sections 12-12, 14-14). The reason for this difference is the fact that the channel’s eastern wall absorbs the streaming water coming from the west via the downspouts, and the shaping of the eastern wall slope of the channel is planned to resolve the great force of the water stream in a way that will prevent the channel’s collapse. The channel is cut and disturbed on its southern side, and it appears that originally it was directed to an area 2 m south of its cutting, where it seems to be the lowest part from which it had to be drained to the east, toward the Siloam Pool. A second plastered drainage channel (L156) was exposed on the other side, in the southern part of the newly excavated area (figs. 4, 6b, sections 13-13, 14-14). This channel slopes in a direction opposite to the former channel, from south to north, also leading

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Zvi Greenhut

toward the same lower spot as the former. The channel is also plastered with the typical gray plaster with small pebbles that is characteristic of the Second Temple Period. A few segments of this channel were preserved, including some parts of the floor and the western side adhering the vertical face of W9. The channel floor rests on the bedrock in the southern part, while the northern part is based on a foundation of small and medium stones (fig. 18). In one place, two layers, similar in their composition and texture, were observed, one on top of the other and both of them ascribed to the Second Temple Period. It should be noted that removal of the stone foundations in the northern part exposed an irregular recess, partly natural and partly hewn into the bedrock (L161, 1 m deep). This recess was full of terra rosa together with pottery sherds dated solely to the Iron Age II.

Pottery and stone vessels A rich assemblage of pottery, stone vessels, and coins were retrieved from the excavation. As stated above, these finds were not discovered in a well-defined, sealed context but retrieved from an accumulation of fill on the rock and in the hewn rooms. Accordingly, this fill reflects the human and settlement activity on the upper part of the slope, at the lower portion of the Western Hill. Table 1.  Division of Finds by Periods

No. of items Percentage

Iron Age II (8th–6th centuries b.c.e.)

Late Hellenistic–Early Roman (1st century b.c.e.– 1st century c.e.)

Late Roman– Byzantine (3rd–7th centuries c.e.)

143 21.25%

472 70.13%

58 8.62%

Total 673 100%

The finds can be divided into three main periods, as noted in Table 1. The bulk of the finds belongs to the Late Hellenistic and Early Roman periods (70%), with the remainder dating to the Iron Age (over 20%), and the Late Roman–Byzantine periods (ca. 10%). One sherd each from the Early Bronze Age (not illus.) and from the Ottoman Period (pl. 3:8), and a few modern sherds (not illus.) were also discovered. The presence of pottery from the late Iron Age II in the excavation confirms what has become now a well-known fact about the expansion of the city onto the Western Hill (for a summary update, see Reich 2000; also see the results of Shiloh’s expedition in Area H on the lower slopes of the Western Hill: De Groot and Michaeli 1992: 50–51). The existence of a significant amount of artifacts from the Late Hellenistic–Early Roman periods testifies to an intense settlement in this part of the slope in these periods and suggests intensive occupational activity in this part of the city, as was evidenced, for instance, in the domestic quarter discovered in Stratum 6 (Early Roman period) of Area H of Shiloh’s expedition (De Groot and Michaeli 1992: 43–50), as well as by the discovery of the retaining walls that encircled the Siloam Pool (De Groot 1996). The Late Roman–Byzantine finds discovered in our excavation are indicative of certain settlement activities in the area during these periods. These periods were also attested by the remains of a corner of a large structure found in Shiloh’s Area H, dated to the first half of the 4th century c.e.

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279

Fig. 19.  Isometric reconstruction of the Second Temple Period complex.

(Magness 1992: 150–54). The absence of finds from the Early Islamic, Crusader, and Late Islamic periods argues that the lower part of the Western Hill was not intensively settled during those periods. The pottery items discussed in the following section are only a typologically representative corpus, selected from a large amount of pottery sherds of the Iron Age II, Late Hellenistic, and Early Roman periods discovered in the excavation.

Iron Age II The pottery belongs to the final time-span of the period, from the end of the 8th century to early 6th century b.c.e. No complete vessels were found. It is important to present this corpus, because although the finds originated in mixed contexts, they reflect the settlement of this period on the southeastern slopes of the Western Hill, and their existence provides additional data for dating the beginning of this settlement on the Western Hill in Iron Age II (De Groot, Geva, and Yezerski 2003). The bulk of the material from Iron Age II consists of various types of bowls, including shallow bowls with straight sides and a cut rim (pl. 1:1), folded-rim bowls (pl. 1:2, 4–6), some carinated (4, 5) or with handles (5), and bowls with everted ledged rims (pl. 1:3). Some of the bowls are wheel-burnished (pl. 1:1, 2) or redslipped (pl. 1:4), which is typical of the period. The holemouth storage jar constitutes a considerable portion of the corpus and belongs to the type with a thick, flat rim (pl. 1: 7, 8). The lamps may be divided into

280

Zvi Greenhut Plate 1.  Iron Age II pottery vessels and Early Roman stone vessels.

No.

Register number

Locus

Type

Description

Parallels

 1

1046/4

115

Bowl

Pinkish clay; some small white grits. Internal wheel burnish.

De Groot, Geva and Yezerski 2003: 4, pl. 1.5:1

 2

1042/2

W1

Bowl

De Groot, Geva and Yezerski Pinkish clay; many small, 2003: 5, pl. 1.9:5–8 medium and large white grits. Internal wheel burnish.

 3

1098/14

115

Bowl

Pinkish clay; some small white grits.

 4

1046/1

115

Bowl

Pinkish clay; many small, medium and large white grits. External and internal red slip. Wheel burnish in inner side.

 5

1029/3

107

Krater

Reddish-brown clay; many small and medium white grits.

De Groot, Geva and Yezerski 2003: 5, pl. 1.7:22

 6

1095/6

113

Bowl

Pinkish clay; many small and medium white grits.

 7

1033/7

108

Holemouth jar

Pinkish clay; many small, medium and large white grits.

De Groot, Geva and Yezerski 2003: 5, pl. 1.3:8 De Groot, Geva and Yezerski 2003:12, pl. 1.1:9–10; Yezerski 2006: 87, pl. 3.1:16

 8

1095/7

113

Holemouth jar

Pinkish clay; some small white and gray grits.

De Groot, Geva and Yezerski 2003: 12, pl. 1.1:9–10

 9

1102/5

115

Lamp

10

1046/10

115

Lamp

11

1101

116

Figurine

Pinkish clay; some small and medium white grits. Reddish-brown clay; some small and medium white and gray grits. Pinkish clay; some small white grits. Gray core.

De Groot, Geva and Yezerski 2003: 13, pl. 1.1:30 De Groot, Geva and Yezerski 2003: 13, pl. 1.6:8; Yezerski 2006: 87, pl. 3.2:22 Yezerski and Geva 2003: 66, pl. 3.5: F 80

12

1050

115

Figurine

13

1083/2

116

Bowl

14

1028/12

109

Cup

15

1025/22

107

Jar/krater

16

1043

115

Pestle?

17

1092

117

Cup

18

1081

116

Weight?

19

1082/1

116

Hammerstone(?)

Black heavy stone. Smoothed base.

Reich 2003: 269, 286–87, pl. 8.5:15

20

1001

100

Mortar

Geva 2006b: 221–22, pl. 9.1:4

21

1004

107

Roller

Hard limestone. Smoothed top due to continuous use. Hard limestone.

De Groot, Geva and Yezerski 2003: 6, pl. 1.2:6 De Groot, Geva and Yezerski 2003: 5, pl. 1.7:19

Pinkish clay; some small white and gray grits.

Yezerski and Geva 2003: 66, pl. 3.6: F 239 Bituminous gray-black chalk. Cahill 1992: 201, 245, 260, fig. 15:23–24, Photos 128–29 (Type 1.a.i.G) Bituminous gray-black chalk. Magen 2002: 98, 100–101, figs. 3.60:5–10, 3.63:c, d Bituminous gray-black chalk. Cahill 1992: 207–9, 250–53, 265–6, figs. 18, 19:1–2, Photo 184 (Type 1.b.i); Magen 2002: 81, fig. 3.34 Granite. Reich 2003: 269, 286-87, pl. 8.5:11 White chalk. Outer walls Cahill 1992: 209–11, 254–55, chisel-faceted 267, fig. 20, Photo 190–96, (Type 1.b.i); Magen 2002: 97–99, fig. 3.60 Reich 2003: 270, 288–89, White chalk. Sides chiselcombed. Smoothed top and pl. 8.6:11 base.

Greenhut 1998: 123, 125, fig. 6.

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281

282

Zvi Greenhut Plate 2.  Hellenistic and Early Roman pottery vessels.

No.

Register number

Locus

Type

Description

Parallels

 1

1095/1

113

Bowl

Reddish-brown clay; some white grits. External and internal burnishing.

Geva and Hershkovitz 2006: 103, pl. 4.5:4, 5

 2  3

1095/4 1042

113 116

Cup Eastern-Sigillata bowl

Reddish-brown clay; Pinkish clay; external and internal red slip and burnishing.

 4

1054/3

117

Casserole

Reddish-brown clay; some white small and medium grits.

Geva and RosenthalHeginbottom 2003: 180, pl. 6.2:30; Geva and Hershkovitz 2006: 112, pl. 4.10:21

 5

1096/8

115

Cooking pot

Reddish-brown clay; some white small grits.

 6

1025/7

107

Cooking pot

Reddish-brown clay; some white small and medium grits.

Geva and Hershkovitz 2006: 111, pl. 4.5:19–20 Geva and Hershkovitz 2006: 111, pl. 4.5:17

 7

1095/3

113

Cooking pot

Reddish-brown clay; some white small grits.

Geva and Hershkovitz 2006: 111, pl. 4.5:19–20

 8

1025/9

107

Cooking pot

Reddish-brown clay; some white small grits.

Geva and Hershkovitz 2006: 111, pl. 4.5:19–20

 9

1003/4

108

Jar

10

1029/4

107

Jar

11

1027/8

108

Jar

Geva and Hershkovitz 2006: 103, pl. 4.3:1–2 Geva and Hershkovitz 2006: 103, pl. 4.3:1–2 Geva and Hershkovitz 2006: 103, pl. 4.3:1–2

12

1025/3

107

Jar

13

1025/5

107

Jar

14

1003/11

108

Jar

15

1031/7

109

Jar

16

1034/3

110

Jar

Pinkish clay; many small white grits. Grayish-brown clay; external and internal white slip. Pinkish clay; many small and medium white and gray grits. Drab clay; some small white grits. Pinkish clay; some small and medium white grits. Pinkish clay; some small and medium white grits. Pinkish clay; some small and medium white grits. Pinkish clay; some small white grits.

17

1030/9

108

Jar

18

1028/16

109

Jar

19

1095/1

113

Jar

20

1029/9

107

Jar

21

1042/3

W1

Juglet

22

1030/19

108

Juglet

23

1003/13

108

Jug

24

1025/13

107

Lamp

25

1079/1

110

Lamp

Rosenthal-Heginbottom 2006: 151, pl. 5.3:4, Color Plate VII

Geva and Hershkovitz 2006: 103, pl. 4.3:1–2 Geva and Hershkovitz 2006: 103, pl. 4.3:1–2 Geva and Hershkovitz 2006: 103, pl. 4.3: 4 Geva and Hershkovitz 2006: 103, pl. 4.3: 3 Geva and RosenthalHeginbottom 2003: 177, pl. 6.1:2 Pinkish clay; many small Geva and Hershkovitz 2006: white grits. Outer white slip. 104, pl. 4.3:10–11, 13–14 Drab clay; some small white Geva and Hershkovitz 2006: grits. 104, pl. 4.3:10–11, 13–14 Pinkish clay; some small Geva and Hershkovitz 2006: white and gray grits. 104, pl. 4.3: 10–11, 13–14 Pinkish clay; some small and ___ medium white grits. Grayish clay; some small Geva and Hershkovitz 2006: white and gray grits. 105–6, pl. 4.4:8–14 Pinkish clay; some small Geva and Hershkovitz 2006: white grits. 105–6, pl. 4.4:8–14 Pinkish clay; some small Geva and Hershkovitz 2006: white grits. 105, pl. 4.4:5 Pinkish clay; some small Geva and Hershkovitz 2006: white grits. 115, pl. 4.13:19, 20 Pinkish clay; some small Geva and Hershkovitz 2006: white grits. 115, pl. 4.13:19, 20

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two main types; one has a low disc base (pl. 1:9), which starts to appear as early as the second half of the 8th century b.c.e. (De Groot, Geva, and Yezerski 2003: 13), and the other has a coarsely made, high, thick, stepped disc-base (pl. 1:10), typical of Judean sites in the 7th–early 6th centuries b.c.e. (ibid.). Fragments of zoomorphic clay figurines, including unidentified animal hindquarters (pl. 1:11) and a leg or tail (pl. 1:12) were also discovered. These figurines are characteristic of the material culture of Iron Age II Judah and especially of Jerusalem (Gilbert-Peretz 1996; Kletter 1996: 43–48).

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Hellenistic and Early Roman Periods The bulk of the finds belongs to the Hellenistic and Early Roman periods, to the period from the 1st century b.c.e. through the 1st century c.e. Among the pottery belonging to this period is the small shallow bowl with a short folded-in rim (pl. 2:1). The latter is known from contemporary levels in the Jewish Quarter excavations (Geva 2003: 138 Type BL 2; Geva and Hershkovitz 2006: 108–9, pl. 4.5:2–6). The Eastern Sigillata bowl base found in the excavation (pl. 2:3) also belongs to this period (Rosenthal-Heginbottom 2006: 151). A significant part of the corpus consists of various types of cooking pots, among them a wide-mouthed, shouldered cooking pot marked by a sharp carination between shoulder and body. The rim is vertical or nearly vertical, with a triangular lip (pl. 2:4). This type of cooking pot is dated from the late 1st century b.c.e. to the 1st century c.e. (Geva and Rosenthal-Heginbottom 2003: 180, pl. 6.2:30; 6.5:43). This type of vessel was recently classified as “casserole with triangular rim” (Geva and Hershkovitz 2006: 112). Another abundant find is the closed cooking pot with triangular rim (pl. 2:5, 7, 8), for which parallels are known in this period from Strata 4-3 in Area E in the Upper City of Jerusalem (Geva and Hershkovitz 2006: 111). Another type of cooking pot, from the same period, is the closed cooking pot with a simple rim (pl. 2:6). Among the storage jars of this period, the storage jars with a short collar rim (pl. 2:9) should be mentioned, dated to the first half of the 1st century b.c.e. in the Jewish Quarter (Geva and Hershkovitz 2006: 104); the storage jar with thickened rim (pl. 2:10–13, 16) of the Early Hellenistic tradition (ibid.: 103); and the storage jar with a thickened, squared rim (pl. 2:14), known from the Jewish Quarter from the first half of the 1st century b.c.e. (Geva 2003: 123, Type SJ 2b; Geva and Rosenthal Heginbottom 2003: 177, pl. 6.1:21–3). A storage jar with everted rim (pl. 2:15) was also discovered, known already in the late 2nd century b.c.e. but especially typical of the early 1st century b.c.e. (Geva 2003: 124, Type SJ 4; Geva and Rosenthal Heginbottom 2003: 177, pl. 6.1:6, 32). The storage jars with long, collared rim (pl. 2:17–19), are the characteristic, dominant type from the reign of Herod, the 2nd half of the 1st century b.c.e, from the Jewish Quarter excavations (Geva and Hershkovitz 2006: 104), but they likely continued in use into the beginning of the 1st century c.e. (Geva and Rosenthal Heginbottom 2003: 177, pl. 6.1:27–31). The jug (pl. 2:23) belongs to the type of jugs with wide mouth; it is characteristic of the 1st century b.c.e. (Bar-Nathan 2002, Type J – JG1A-B; Geva and Hershkovitz 2006: 105, pl. 4.4:5, 6). The juglets (pl. 2:21, 22) with cup-shaped rim were found without their bases, so their whole shape cannot be reconstructed. However, if these juglets originally had a rounded base, they belong to a type of juglet characteristic of the 1st century b.c.e; noteworthy is a group of similar complete vessels found in one of the niches (734) in the building in Area E in the Jewish Quarter excavations (Geva and Hershkovitz 2006: 105, pl. 4.11:1–5). Similar juglets, but with a flat base, are also typical of this period, found in Hasmonean and Herodian layers in the excavations of the Jewish Quarter (Geva and Hershkovitz 2006: 106, pl. 4.4:9, 11) and at Jericho (Bar-Nathan 2002, Type J-JT1A2).

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The two broken lamp nozzles presented here (pl. 2:24, 25) are among the many similar nozzles found in the excavation. These nozzles belong to the wheel-made Herodian-type lamps (also known as knife-pared lamps) that first appeared at the very end of the 1st century b.c.e. or at the very beginning of the 1st century c.e. (Geva and Hershkovitz 2006: 115). Stone Vessels of the Early Roman Period Several stone vessel fragments typical of the Early Roman period in Jerusalem and Judea were discovered (pl. 1:13–20). These included a rim of a large bowl (pl. 1:13) of bituminous gray-black chalk made on a lathe. This large bowl has two incised lines on the outer walls, below the rim. This type of vessel was discovered at the City of David (Cahill 1992: 202, 245, 260, fig. 15:23–24, photos 128–29, Type 1.a.i.G). These bowls, usually with no legs, were also designated “mortar bowls” due to the fact that a fragment with one partially preserved leg was found in B. Mazar’s excavations near the Temple Mount (Magen 2002: 69, figs. 3.11.2; 3.12; pl. 11). Another mortarium characteristic of the period has three legs and was made of hard limestone (pl. 1:20). This kind of vessel is typical of the Second Temple period stratum in the Jewish Quarter, where many examples were found (Geva 2006b: 220–21, pl. 9.1:4). Another typical stone vessel, made of chalk, is the barrel-shaped krater of which a thick fragment of a rim was found (pl. 1:15). It is of bituminous gray-black chalk and was made on a large lathe. The outer edge of the rim has a projecting ridge and, according to the shape, it is classified by Magen as Form 1 (Magen 2002: 80–89, figs. 3.34–3.47, pl. 12). This krater is commonly identified as the kallal mentioned in the rabbinic sources (Avigad 1983: 174; Magen 2002: 88; Reich 2003: 266–67). Another typical chalk vessel is the hand-carved mug (pl. 1:17), referred to in the literature as a “measuring cup.” This is an elongated, cylindrical vessel with a simple rim, flat base, and one or two rectangular-pierced vertical handles; its exterior is chisel-faceted, while its interior is polished. These vessels are found at almost every Second Temple-period and Bar Kokhba-period site (Magen 2002: 97–99). Another typical vessel is the hand-curved bowl made of bituminous gray chalk (pl. 1:14). This has a flat base and straight walls and two rectangular, horizontal ledge-handles at the rim. The distribution and date of this kind of vessel is similar to that of the mugs, and this vessel apparently imitates wooden bowls (Magen 2002: 100–101). One of the stone artifacts discovered is a small, carved, granite stone (pl. 1:16); its shape suggests that it was used as a pestle. Another artifact (pl. 1:19), made of an unidentified black stone, probably served the same function. A fragment of a hard limestone roller with a recess in one of its edges for a plough-shaft was also found (pl. 1:21) and may date to the Second Temple period or to the Late Roman/ Byzantine periods (Greenhut 1998: 123, 125, fig. 6). Among the stone objects, noteworthy is the stone scale-weight (B. 2008, pl. 4:1; height: 440 mm, diameter: 720 mm, measured mass: 367.6 g), preserved completely intact and inscribed LEB. 5 The L sign stands for “year,” while the E represents the 5.  I would like to thank Prof. R. Reich for his assistance and discussion of the subject.

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numeral 5, recording the date when the item was produced; the B stands for βασιλέως (basileos) “king.” A stone scale-weight bearing the same inscription was discovered at Ein Feshkha, suggested originally by de Vaux to be read as LIB, abbreviated from libra (de Vaux 1973: 67–68, pl. 35b). A series of stone scale-weights bearing different variations of the formula LE has been found in Jerusalem (Avigad 1983: 203, fig. 246; Mazar 1971: 17, pl. XXIII:1–4), and all of them refer to “Year 5” (41 c.e.) of the reign of Agrippa I (37–43 c.e., already suggested by Mazar: 1971: 17; for recent summaries of the inscriptions inscribed on Agrippa I’s stone scale-weights, see Di Segni 2005: 26, 37, no. 19; Reich 2006: 348–50, 366–72). Reich has suggested that the stone scale-weights bearing the LE sign belong to the weighing system IV out of four groups of weighing systems of the late Second Temple period (Reich 2006). Judging from our stone scale-weight as well as the inscription it bears, it belongs to group 45 of his classification, the average mass of the intact weights of this group is 376.72 g (ibid: 366–67, table 18.13). Reich ascribed weighing system IV to the time between the reign of Agrippa I and the sack of Jerusalem (41–70 c.e.; ibid: 372, table 18.16). Another stone scale-weight (B. 2016, not illus.) is relatively small (diameter: 480 mm, height: 295 mm, and measured mass: 85.7 g) and belongs to group 33 of weighing system III in Reich’s classification (Reich 2006: 361, pls. 18.1:JQ 14; 18.5: JQ 91, JQ 103; 18.6: JQ 112; 18.6: JQ 138). An additional stone scale-weight (B. 1081; pl. 1:18; height: 500 mm, diameter: 1160 mm, measured mass: 1,253.2 g), has a smoothed top and base and is combchiseled all around. According to its weight, it should be ascribed to group 27 of weighing system II in Reich’s classification (Reich 2006: 361, pls. 18.7: JQ 140; 18.8: JQ 150).

Late Roman and Byzantine Periods The bowls on pl. 3 belong to the Byzantine period. One (pl. 3:1) is a carinated, rouletted bowl with a rolled-rim ridge with a ridge below. The exterior, below the rim, is decorated with rouletting in combination with a drippy red. Bowls of this type are dated from the late 3rd /early 4th centuries c.e. to the 5th century c.e. (Magness 1993: 186–87). Three types of basins were discovered. (1) A shelf-rim basin (pl. 3:2) with a small projection where the rim joins the vessel. The walls of the basin are slightly concave. Basins of this type are dated from the late 1st/2nd centuries c.e. to the 3rd century c.e. (Magness 1993: 202). (2) Arched-rim basins (pl. 3:3, 6, 7) can be divided into two types. Basins 3 and 6 are defined as form 1 by Magness, having straight walls and with a rim that is arched in section. The arched rim has a ridge on the upper surface where the rim joins the body. These basins are dated between the late 3rd/early 4th centuries c.e. and the 6th century c.e. Basin no. 7 belongs to Magness’s form 2a and is characterized by decoration with bands of combing on the exterior. Basins of this type are dated between the 6th century c.e. and the late 7th/ beginning of the 8th centuries c.e. (Magness 1993: 205–6). (3) The rilled-rim basin (pl. 3:5) has an upward-angled ledge-rim, with ridges or rills on its upper surface.

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Plate 3.  Late Roman and Byzantine pottery vessels. No.

Register number

Locus

Type

Description

Parallels

1

1103/2

118

Bowl

Magness 1993: 186–87, rouletted bowl, form 1

2

1037/4

112

Basin

3

1030/8

108

Basin

4

1033/10

108

Basin

5

1033/2

108

Basin

6

1086/4

117

Basin

7

1035/2

110

Basin

8

1037/1

112

Jug

Pinkish clay; some small and medium white grits. Red slip on rim and ridge below it. Pinkish clay; some small and large white grits. Pinkish clay; some small and medium white grits. Grayish slip on external rim. Pinkish clay; some small white and gray grits. Pinkish clay; some small white grits. External white slip. Pinkish clay; some small white grits. Pinkish clay; some small white grits. External white slip and comb decoration. Grayish clay; many small and medium white grits.

Magness 1993: 202, shelf-rim basin, form 1 Magness 1993: 204–5, archedrim basin, form 1 Magness 1993: 203–4, rilled-rim basin Magness 1993: 203–4, rilled-rim basin Magness 1993: 204–5, archedrim basin, form 1 Magness 1993: 206–7, arched rim basin, form 2a “Gaza Ware”

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Plate 4.  Inscribed scale stone weight, silver sheqel, and two Byzantine coins. The lower edge of the rim ends in a hook. These basins are dated between the late 3rd/early 4th centuries c.e. and the 6th century c.e. (Magness 1993: 203–4). A “Gaza Ware” spout of a jug (pl. 3:8), typical of the Ottoman period, was also identified.

Discussion The present excavation area is located on the lowest slopes of the Western Hill, in an area considered in modern research to be part of the Lower City (Avi-Yonah 1956: map 10; 1968: map on p. 26; 1975: 10). In this part of the city, as well as in the City of David itself, the presence of Second Temple domestic structures is rare, in contrast to the well-known public communal structures in this area,

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such as the Siloam Pool, which has a nicely planned plaza around it, excavated recently by Reich and Shukron (Reich and Shukron 2005a; 2005b), and the major municipal stepped street along the Central Valley covering one of the city’s major drainage systems, discovered already in the 19th century by Bliss and Dickie (1898: 132–77, general plan I) and reexcavated very recently by Reich and Shukron (Reich and Shukron 2010: 75–79). One should also mention remains of a building and a nearby water installations discovered by Weill at the southern tip of the City of David (Weill 1920: 174–90). Parts of a ruined building were found deposited in an orderly fashion in a nearby water cistern: carved stones, column fragments, and a Greek inscription (Weill 1920: 178–79, 183–90, pl. 25:A, B), attesting to a complex of buildings around a synagogue founded by Theodotus, the son of Vettenus. This discovery was located not far from the Siloam Pool, to the northeast of it. The area of our excavation, to the west and above the Siloam Pool, on the west lower slopes of the Tyropoeon Valley, was considered to be an area inhabited by the lower rank of the Second Temple period population, in contrast to the Upper City with the Hasmonean Palace and other structures of the high-status aristocracy ( J. W. 2.17 §6; Avi-Yonah 1956: 318–19; Regev 2005: 406). In this regard, one can find in the renovated and relocated model in the Israel Museum of Jerusalem in the Second Temple period the reconstruction of very simple buildings and huts (Barkay and Schiller 2001: map on p. 27, picture on p. 34); an industrial quarter was even suggested for this area (Avi-Yonah 1968: map on p. 26). The results of the recent excavation indicate the presence of an architectural complex from the Second Temple period consisting of a series of rooms arranged in stories on a rock cliff rising to the west and on the lower part of the Central Valley. Terraced construction on the natural slopes is known in many places in Jerusalem, for example, on the slopes of the Upper City (see the picture of the Second Templeperiod model reconstruction in Ben-Dov 1985: 149), in the Ophel excavations (BenDov 1985: 154, lower left picture), and recently in the Western Wall Plaza, just above the secondary cardo. However, the kind of construction found in our excavation, in a manner reminiscent of the arrangement of some burial tombs on a steep scarp in the village of Silwan (Ussishkin 1993: 26–28, fig. III:10), or Akeldama (de Saulcy 1853: 313–24, pl. XLIV; Macalister 1900: photo facing p. 239), is not a common occurrence in Jerusalem. The natural topography dictated the kind and method of construction required by the ancient planners and builders of this complex. Whether this complex represents several houses or a single domestic building is a difficult question to answer. Our reconstruction (fig. 19) suggests the second possibility––one structure that was encircled by a network of streets or passageways, one of which was discovered in our excavation. Apparently, this was a side street, starting from the major street exposed in the past that runs all the way along the Central (Tyropoeon) Valley. Our road is founded on a massive fill consisting of large blocks, some of them ashlars, together with white plaster and mortar, and it is bordered by two opposing massive retaining walls. It is drained by a series of downspouts directed to the Central Valley and appears to have been part of a well-planned Second Temple-period urban layout.

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Another question that deserves an answer is the physical relationship between the Siloam Pool, located at the foot of this complex, and the complex itself. Was there a cliff that separated the pool from the domestic quarter, or was there a staircase or a street leading from the lower part of the slope toward the pool itself? Was the pool encircled by a colonnade separating it from the domestic structures above it? The De Groot excavation in this area provides evidence for reconstructing the pool in its vicinity (De Groot 1996). Two walls were revealed in his excavation–– one, a wall built of ashlars with wide margins around an uneven, rough boss, dated to the Hasmonean period. The western part of this wall joins a corner in the second wall, built from coarse ashlars and founded on a platform of field-stones. De Groot interpreted these walls as part of the retaining wall system around the Siloam Pool. If this is the case, these walls might have served as retaining walls for our domestic quarter climbing up to the upper part of the slope. Despite the only partial preservation of the site, there is enough evidence to suggest the relative extravagance of the complex, one that may be evidence of the high social status of the community living here and to the nature of the neighborhood in this part of the city. It may be concluded that the whole Western Hill was inhabited by a uniformly high-status aristocracy, making it difficult to accept the distinction often offered in current discussions of the western hill between an “Upper City” in the northern part and a “Lower City” in the southern part Flavius Josephus’s writings should be taken literally, based on the natural topography: the term “Lower City” refers only to the southeastern hill, that is, the genuine City of David. The data retrieved in our excavations adds to our understanding of Jerusalem’s city-plan and to the spatial and visual relationship between the Second Temple Siloam Pool, the colonnaded main street with the plaza leading to it, and the domestic quarter looking down upon it from the west. One could have expected to encounter habitation from the Second Temple period in this area of the city, but the intensity and luxury of this habitation are surprising. It is hoped that additional excavations in this area will add more to our understanding of the history and archaeology of ancient Jerusalem.

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Barkay, G., and Schiller, E. 2001 Tour through Jerusalem of the Second Temple Period in the Model at the Holyland Hotel Compound. Ariel 145–46: 21–50. [Hebrew] Ben-Dov, M. 1985 In the Shadow of the Temple: The Discovery of Ancient Jerusalem. New York: Harper & Row. Bliss, F. J., and Dickie, A. C. 1898 Excavations at Jerusalem 1894–1897. London: Palestine Exploration Fund. Cahill, J. M. 1992 Chalk Vessel Assemblages of the Persian/Hellenistic and Early Roman Periods. Pp. 190–274 in vol. III of Excavations at the City of David 1978–1985 Directed by Yigal Shiloh, ed. A. De Groot and D. T. Ariel. Qedem 33. Jerusalem: Hebrew University Institute of Archaeology. De Groot, A. 1996 Jerusalem, City of David. ESI 15: 75–7. De Groot, A., and Michaeli, D. 1992 Area H. Pp. 35–53 in vol. III of Excavations at the City of David 1978–1985 Directed by Yigal Shiloh, ed. A. De Groot and D. T. Ariel. Qedem 33. Jerusalem: Hebrew University Institute of Archaeology. De Groot, A., Geva H., and Yezerski, I. 2003 Iron Age II Pottery. Pp. 1–49 in vol. II of Jewish Quarter Excavations in the Old City of Jerusalem Conducted by Nahman Avigad, 1969–1982: The Finds from Areas A, W and X-2, Final Report, ed. H. Geva. Jerusalem: Israel Exploration Society. Di Segni, L. 2005 A Roman Standard in Herod’s Kingdom. Israel Museum Studies in Archaeology 4: 23–46. Geva, H. 1993 A Summary of Twenty-Five Years of Archaeological Research in Jerusalem – Achievements and Evaluations. Qadmoniot 26 (1–2): 2–24. [Hebrew] 2003 Hellenistic Pottery from Areas W and X-2. Pp. 113–75 in vol. II of Jewish Quarter Excavations in the Old City of Jerusalem Conducted by Nahman Avigad, 1969–1982. The Finds from Areas A, W and X-2, Final Report, ed. H. Geva. Jerusalem: Israel Exploration Society. 2006a Stratigraphy and Architecture. Pp. 1–78 in vol. III of Jewish Quarter Excavations in the Old City of Jerusalem Conducted by Nahman Avigad, 1969–1982: Area E and Other Studies, Final Report, ed. H. Geva. Jerusalem: Israel Exploration Society. 2006b Stone Artifacts. Pp. 218– 38 in vol. III of Jewish Quarter Excavations in the Old City of Jerusalem Conducted by Nahman Avigad, 1969–1982: Area E and Other Studies, Final Report, ed. H. Geva. Jerusalem: Israel Exploration Society. Geva, H., and Rosenthal-Heginbottom, R. 2003 Local Pottery from Area A. Pp. 176–223 in vol. II of Jewish Quarter Excavations in the Old City of Jerusalem Conducted by Nahman Avigad, 1969–1982: The Finds from Areas A, W and X-2, Final Report, ed. H. Geva. Jerusalem: Israel Exploration Society. Geva, H., and Hershkovitz, M. 2006 Local Pottery of the Hellenistic and Early Roman Periods. Pp. 94–143 in vol. III of Jewish Quarter Excavations in the Old City of Jerusalem Conducted by Nahman Avigad, 1969–1982: Area E and Other Studies, Final Report, ed. H. Geva. Jerusalem: Israel Exploration Society. Gibson, S. 2005 The Pool of Bethesda in Jerusalem and Jewish Purification Practices of the Second Temple Period. Proch-Orient Chrétien 55 (3–4): 270–93.

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Gilbert-Peretz, D. 1996 Ceramic Figurines. Pp. 29–86 in vol. IV of Excavations at the City of David 1978– 1985 Directed By Yigal Shiloh, ed. D. T. Ariel and A. De Groot. Qedem 35. Jerusalem: Hebrew University Institute of Archaeology. Josephus 1928 The Jewish War (ed. H. St. J. Thackeray). In The Loeb Classical Library, Josephus: Vol. 3. London and New York. Kenyon, K. M. 1974 Digging Up Jerusalem. London: E. Benn. Kletter, R. 1996 The Judaean Pillar-Figurines and the Archaeology of Asherah. BAR International Series 636. Oxford: Tempus Reparatum. Kloner, A., and Tepper, Y. 1987 The Hiding Complexes in the Judean Shephelah. Tel Aviv: Israel Exploration Society. [Hebrew] Macalister, R. A. S. 1900 The Rock-Cut Tombs in Wadi Er-Rababi, Jerusalem. PEFQst 33: 225–48. Magen, Y. 2002 The Stone Vessel Industry in the Second Temple Period. Jerusalem: Israel Exploration Society Magness, J. 1992 The Late Roman and Byzantine Pottery from Areas H and K. Pp. 149–64 in vol. III of Excavations at the City of David 1978–1985 Directed by Yigal Shiloh, Vol. III, ed. A. De Groot and D. T. Ariel. Qedem 33. Jerusalem: Hebrew University Institute of Archaeology. 1993 Jerusalem Ceramic Chronology: Circa 200–800 c.e. Sheffield: JSOT Press. Mazar, B. 1971 The Excavations in the Old City of Jerusalem near the Temple Mount: Preliminary Report of the Second and Third Seasons, 1969–1970. Jerusalem: Israel Exploration Society. Regev, E. 2005 The Sadducees and their Halakhah. Jerusalem: Yad Ben-Zvi. [Hebrew] Reich, R. 1990 Miqwaʿot (Jewish Ritual Immersion Baths) in Eretz-Israel in the Second Temple and the Mishna and Talmud Periods. Ph.D. diss., Hebrew University, Jerusalem. [Hebrew] 2000 The Topography and Archaeology of Jerusalem in the First Temple Period. Pp. 93– 130 in The History of Jerusalem: The Biblical Period, ed. S. Ahituv and A. Mazar. Jerusalem: Yad Ben-Zvi. [Hebrew] 2003 Stone Vessels, Weights and Architectural Fragments. Pp. 263–91 in vol. II of Jewish Quarter Excavations in the Old City of Jerusalem Conducted by Nahman Avigad, 1969–1982: The Finds from Areas A, W and X-2, Final Report, ed. H. Geva. Jerusalem: Israel Exploration Society. 2006 Stone Scale Weights of the Late Second Temple Period from the Jewish Quarter. Pp. 329–88 in vol. III of Jewish Quarter Excavations in the Old City of Jerusalem Conducted by Nahman Avigad, 1969–1982: Area E and Other Studies, Final Report, ed. H. Geva. Jerusalem: Israel Exploration Society. Reich, R., and Shukron, E. 2004 The History of the Gihon Spring in Jerusalem. Levant 36: 211–23. 2005a The Siloam Pool in the Wake of Recent Discoveries. Pp. 137–40 in New Studies on Jerusalem 10, ed. E. Baruch and A. Faust. Ramat Gan: Ingeborg Rennert Center for Jerusalem Studies, Bar Ilan University. [Hebrew] 2005b The Shiloah Pool during the Second Temple Period. Qadmoniot 38 (130): 91–96. [Hebrew]

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2010 Discoveries in the City of David, 2008–2010. Qadmoniot 43 (140): 70–79. [Hebrew] Rozenberg, S. 2006 Herodian Stuccowork Ceiling. Pp. 339–49 in The Architecture of Herod, the Great Builder, ed. E. Netzer. Tübingen. Mohr Siebeck. Rozenberg, S. and Peleg, O. 2008 Stuccowork in the Herodian Palaces. Pp. 475–521 in Hasmonean and Herodian Palaces at Jericho, ed. S. Rozenberg. Jerusalem: Israel Exploration Society . Rosenthal-Heginbottom, R. 2006 Late Hellenistic and Early Roman Lamps and Fine Ware. Pp. 144–67 in vol. III of Jewish Quarter Excavations in the Old City of Jerusalem Conducted by Nahman Avigad, 1969–1982, Vol. III: Area E and Other Studies, Final Report, ed. H. Geva. Jerusalem: Israel Exploration Society. Saulcy, F. de 1853 Voyage autour de la Mer Morte. Paris: Gide et J. Baudry. Ussishkin, D. 1993 The Village of Silwan: The Necropolis from the Period of the Judean Kingdom. Jerusalem: Israel Exploration Society. Vaux, R. de 1973 Archaeology and the Dead Sea Scrolls. The Schweich Lectures of the British Academy. London: Oxford University Press. Weill, R. 1920 La Cité de David. Paris: Geuthner. Yezerski, I. 2006 Iron Age II Pottery. Pp. 84–93 in vol. III of Jewish Quarter Excavations in the Old City of Jerusalem Conducted by Nahman Avigad, 1969–1982: Area E and Other Studies, Final Report, ed. H. Geva. Jerusalem: Israel Exploration Society. Yezerski, I., and Geva, H. 2003 Iron Age II Clay Figurines. Pp. 63–84 in vol. II of Jewish Quarter Excavations in the Old City of Jerusalem Conducted by Nahman Avigad, 1969–1982: The Finds from Areas A, W and X-2, Final Report, ed. H. Geva. Jerusalem: Israel Exploration Society.

Coins from Excavations in the Domestic Quarter of the City of David, Jerusalem Donald T. Ariel

Israel Antiquities Authority

Forty-four coins were found in the 2006 excavations, half unidentifiable. All are bronze. The coins were cleaned in the laboratories of the Israel Antiquities Authority headed by H. Kuperschmidt and were photographed by Clara Amit of the IAA photography studio. Coins from Jerusalem in general (Ariel 1982; Miles 1985; Gitler 1996) and the City of David in particular (Ariel 1990: 99–112) have been thoroughly studied. The coins published here have primarily stratigraphical value, particularly the ten coins from L113. This locus is the fill beneath a path, and as such represents sealed material. Most of the coins are from the 1st century b.c.e. and 1st century c.e.—until Jerusalem’s destruction in 70 c.e. According to the excavator, the path went out of use at that time. However, the latest two coins (Cat. Nos. 20 and 22) are Byzantine in date. If they are not intrusive, then the path must in fact date to the 6th century c.e. or later. This excavation was the expansion of another excavation conducted in 2005. None of the contexts of the coins from that season were sealed. Those 86 (62 identified) coins are nevertheless summarized in the table below (p. 295). They provide indirect support for the pre-70 c.e. date of the excavated remains. The numismatic material from the 2006 season includes a sheqel of the Jewish War (IAA 101990; pl. 4:2) a rare find in archaeological excavations, even in Jerusalem. To date, other Jewish War sheqels and half sheqels have only been found in excavations in the “Southern Wall” (4, according to an unpublished list of Y. Meshorer; IAA 45519 = Ariel 1982: 315, nos. 101–106 passim; IAA 45291 [not published]); on Mount Zion (2; Germer-Durand 1914: 234); in the City of David (1; J. W. Crowfoot’s 1928 excavations; IAA 50002 [not published]); in the Jewish Quarter (hoard of 13 sheqels and half sheqels; Avigad 1983: 195–96), in the material sifted from the Temple Mount (http://www.echad.info/sifting/reports/4th_Update. pdf); Susiya (Sar-Avi and Eshel 1998: IX); and Masada (Meshorer 1989: 101–2, nos. 1310–57; p. 114, nos. 2985–99; p. 118, nos. 3490–91; p. 119, nos. 3595–3602). The sheqels and half sheqels from the latter excavation derive mostly from three hoards (Meshorer 1989: 73–74), but there were also eight isolated finds (Meshorer 1989: 101, nos. 1310, 1324–25, 1329, 1331–32, 1337–38). Two of these (nos. 1329 and 1332, both from L663; nos. 1337–38 both from L1336)—as well as the Mount Zion coins—may have been “mini-hoards” of two coins each. The single find of a sheqel in the 2006 excavations, consequently, joins about only a dozen other isolated 294

Coins from Excavations in the Domestic Quarter of the City of David Loci

Identification

117 107, 109

Janneus, 104–80/79 b.c.e. Janneus, 80/79–76 b.c.e.

 2  2

115, 116

Hasmonean, 129–37 b.c.e.

117

Hasmonean/Herod, 104–4 b.c.e. Augustus, 9/10

 2  1

Surf.

Quantity

Reference

IAA Nos.

TJC:209, Group K TJC:210, Subgroup L7–14

101975, 101977 101958, 101962

295

101963, 101972 101974

 1  2  1  1  3  2

TJC:256, No. 312 Cf. TJC:256, No. 311 TJC:258, No. 331 TJC:258, No. 334 TJC:239, No. 120 TJC:259, No. 340

101991 101981, 101995 101996 101971 101956, 101988–89 101970, 101992

 4

TJC:260, No. 345

101945, 101950, 101993, 102000

AR, Jewish War, 67/68 100, 101, Jewish War, 67/68 102, 107, 108, 109, 115, 117

 1 32

TJC:241, No. 193 101990 TJC:241, Nos. 196–97 101946, 101948–49, 101951–54, 101957, 101959–61, 101964–69, 101973, 101978, 101980, 101982, 101984–87, 101994, 101997–98, 102001, 102003–5

100, 107, 108, 117

Jewish War, 68/69

 7

TJC:242, Nos. 204–5

101944, 101955, 101976, 101979, 101983, 101999, 102002

100

Rabbel II, Petra, 70–106

 1

Meshorer 1975: 111, No. 164

101947

Total:

62

107, 117 107 116 107, 117 115 100, 108, Surf.

Augustus, 6/7–11/12 Tiberius/Pilate, 29/30 Tiberius/Pilate, 31/32 Agrippa I, 41/42 Claudius/Felix, 54 Nero/Festus (?), 59

117

Mint: Jerusalem unless otherwise noted; Date: c.e. unless otherwise noted; Material: Æ unless otherwise noted.

excavated finds in all—evidence of the overall rarity of such coins. This information is important, because it is likely that the not infrequent appearance of sheqels and half sheqels among antiquities dealers is due largely to market forces.

Catalogue All the coins are bronze. The coins are arranged chronologically, according to coin-types. Coins bearing an asterisk have photographs in plate 4:2–4.

Locus

Surf.

134

113

113

113

136

W8

Surf.

113

135

136

Cat. No.

 1

 2

 3

 4

 5

 6

 7

 8

 9

10

11

2113

2049

2065

2045

2058

2102

2114

2105

2051

2054

2044

Basket

2.78

1.45

2.46

1.68

0.42

0.66

0.50

0.57

0.58

1.50

3.24

Weight (gm)

17

17

17

14

8´10

11´13

9´11

10

7

13

15

Diam. (mm)

0

.

Axis

Obliterated.

[-–-] within wreath.

Same; in fields: [L]–V

Same; in fields: [-–-]

Three ears of grain; in fields: [L]–V

Herodians Agrippa I (37–44 c.e.) [BACIΛΕWC–AΓ]Ρ̣ΙΠΑ Canopy. [-–-] Same.

Same.

Same.

Same.

Star.

Roman Procurators in Judea under Tiberius – Pontius Pilatus TIB[EPIOΥ KAICAPOC] Lituus.

Same.

Same.

Same.

Unclear.

Hellenistic ?

Obliterated.

Seleucid ? (Second c. b.c.e. ?)

[-–-] Veiled and draped female figure, stg. facing, holding long scepter or torch.

Hasmoneans Alexander Janneus (104–76 b.c.e.) Anchor within circle.

Head r. ?

Head r.

Obliterated.

Reverse

Seleucids Antiochus IV (175–164 b.c.e.)

Obverse

Same

Same

Same

Same

Jerusalem

‘AkkoPtolemais

Mint

Same

Same

Same

Same

6=41/42 Same c.e.

30/31– 31/32 c.e.

Same

Same

Same

80/79– 76 b.c.e.

Date (c.e.)

Same

Same

TJC:231, No. 120

Cf. TJC:258, No. 333

Same

Same

Same

TJC:212, Subgroups L7–14

SNG Israel 1:156, No. 1130

Reference

Serrated

Notes

111607

111604

111591

111610

111608

111606

111598

111597

111590

111601

111609

IAA No.

296 Donald T. Ariel

Locus

113

113

136

134

113

113

134

134

113

134

113

Cat. No.

12

13

14

15

16

17

18

19*

20*

21

22*

2068

2056

2092

2034

2055

2094

2093

2053

2101

2100

2039

Basket

0.88

0.61

3.69

4.54

3.30

2.67

2.04

1.28

2.14

2.32

2.00

Weight (gm)

10

10

22

19

18

17

18

15´17

17

14´17

17

Diam. (mm)

0

6

0

0

8

0

0

0

0

0

Axis Reverse

[-–-] Bust r.

Obliterated.

Fourth-Fifth Centuries c.e.

IOVI CONSER–VATORI AVGG Jupiter stg. facing, holding Victory on glove, leaning on scepter; in r. field: ‰; in ex.: SMHT

Anastasius I (491–518 c.e.), nummus

[-–-] Head or bust r.

IMP C FL VAL CONSTANTINVS PF AVC Laureate bust r.

Constantine I (307–337 c.e.)

‫]ש]נת–ארבע‬ 4=69/70 Same Lulav between two ethrogs. c.e.

[‫]ל]ג[אלת–ציון‬ Cup.

Same

[‫חר[ת] [̣צ̣  י̣   ו[ן‬ Same.

‫שנת–[שתי]ם‬ Same.

RIC 6:541, No. 75

TJC:243, No. 214

Same

Same

TJC:241, No. 196

TJC:260, No. 345a

Same

Same

TJC:260, No. 345

Reference

Constantin. MIBE 90, No. 40

Heraclea

Same

Same

Same

[‫]חר]ת ציו[ן‬ Same.

‫שנת–[שתי]ם‬ Same.

Same

2=67/68 Same c.e.

Same

Same

Same

Same

Mint

[‫̣ חרת צ̣ י[ון‬ Vine leaf.

Jewish War (66–70 c.e.)

[LE K]AIC–[APOC] Same.

Same

Same

5=59 c.e.

Date (c.e.)

‫]ש]̣נת–שת[י]̣ם‬ Amphora.

[NEP/W]NO/C Same.

LE K[AIC–AP]OC] Same.

[LE K]AIC–[A]PO[C] Same.

ᴎEP/WNO/C̣ Same. NE[P]/WNO/C Same.

LE Ḳ[AIC]–ẠPOC Palm branch.

NEP/WNO/C Within wreath.

Roman Procurators in Judea under Nero–Festus

Obverse

First N retrograde

Notes

111592

111603

111593

111599

111602

111595

111594

111600

111605

111596

111589

IAA No.

Coins from Excavations in the Domestic Quarter of the City of David 297

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Donald T. Ariel

References Ariel, D. T. 1982 A Survey of the Coins in Jerusalem (until the end of the Byzantine Period). Liber Annuus 32: 273–326. Ariel, D. T. 1990 Excavations in the City of David Directed by Yigal Shiloh, 2: Imported Stamped Amphora Handles, Coins, Worked Bone and Ivory, and Glass. Qedem 30. Jerusalem: Institute of Archaeology, Hebrew University. Avigad, N. 1983 Discovering Jerusalem. Nashville: Thomas Nelson. Germer-Durand, J. 1914 La maison de Caïaphe et ľéglise Saint Pierre à Jérusalem (I). Revue Biblique 23: 222–46. Gitler, H. 1996 A Comparative Study of Numismatic Evidence from Excavations in Jerusalem. Liber Annuus 46: 317–62. Meshorer, Y. 1975 Nabatean Coins. Qedem 3. Jerusalem: Institute of Archaeology, Hebrew University. Meshorer, Y. 1989 The Coins. Pp. 71–132 in Masada I: The Yigael Yadin Excavations 1963–1965, Final Report. Jerusalem: Israel Exploration Society. Miles, G. C., ed. 1985 The Coins from the Armenian Garden. Pp. 156–77 in A. D. Tushingham, Excavations in Jerusalem 1961–1967, 1. Toronto: Royal Ontario Museum. MIBE: W. Hahn. Money of the Incipient Byzantine Empire (Anastasius I–Justinian I, 491–565). Veröffentlichungen des Instituts für Numismatik und Geldgeschichte der Universität Wien 6. Vienna: Östereichische Forschungsgesellschaft für Numismatik am Institut für Numismatik und Geldgeschichte, 2000. RIC 6: C.H.V. Sutherland. The Roman Imperial Coinage, VI. From Diocletian’s Reform (a.d. 294) to the Death of Maximinus (D. 313). London: British Museum, 1967. SNG Israel 1:  A. Houghton and A. Spaer. Sylloge Nummorum Graecorum. Israel I: The Arnold Spaer Collection of Seleucid Coins. Jerusalem: Italo Vecchi, 1998. Sar-Avi, D., and Eshel, H. 1998 Susia During the Second Temple Period. In Y. Eshel ed. Judea and Samaria Research Studies 7: 31–9 [Hebrew; English summary, pp. ixff.]. Ariel: Academic College of Judea and Samaria. TJC: Y. Meshorer. A Treasury of Jewish Coins from the Persian Period to Bar Kochba. Jerusalem: Yad Ben-Zvi / Nyack: Amphora, 2001.

On the “New City” of Second Temple Period Jerusalem: The Archaeological Evidence Hillel Geva

The Hebrew University of Jerusalem and the Israel Exploration Society

Introduction At the end of the First Temple period (the 8th–6th centuries b.c.e.), the settled and fortified area of Jerusalem first grew beyond the City of David and the Temple Mount to the area of the Southwestern Hill (see summary in Geva 2003b: 504–24). Not long afterward, the city began spreading onto the hills to the north—tracts of land located within the present-day Muslim and Christian Quarters of the Old City—up to the area where tombs have been found just north of the Damascus Gate (see summaries in Barkay 2000: 255–66; Barkay et al. 1994). Archaeological evidence for settlement in this northern sector of Jerusalem at the end of the First Temple period consists primarily of potsherds retrieved in various excavations in the area (see summary in Barkay 1985: 11–44; Wightman 1993: 99; for new excavations, see Baruch and Avni 2001: 96). The finds attest that this sector was quite sparsely populated and unfortified. It was of an agricultural nature, though stone-quarrying activity also took place here (Broshi and Barkay 1985: 109–19; Gibson and Taylor 1994: 11–17, 52–60). The settlement of northern Jerusalem was destroyed at the time of the conquest of Jerusalem in 587/6 b.c.e. Along with the Southwestern Hill, it lay desolate for more than four centuries. The Persian period city extended over the more limited, long-established area of the city on the Southeastern Hill. These were the bounds of the city during the Early Hellenistic period as well (the 3rd–2nd centuries b.c.e.). In the second half of the 2nd century b.c.e, the city witnessed renewed growth and expansion under Hasmonean rule. The Southwestern Hill was resettled and refortified with the construction of the “First Wall” (Geva 2003b: 526–35). In addition to the growth of the residential quarter on that hill, the Second Temple period city also slowly spread once more into areas to the north of the First Wall, the sector previously settled at the end of the First Temple period. However, in contrast to that period, the northern sector at the end of the Second Temple period extended beyond what is today the Old City. The resulting urbanized quarter, extending along the Upper (northern) Tyropoeon Valley, justified the construction of the “Second Wall.” Additional expansion northward necessitated the construction of the “Third Wall,” which fortified a substantial area in northern Jerusalem. With the construction of the Second and Third Walls, an extremely large area of around 1200 dunams 299

300

Hillel Geva

Fig. 1.  Map of Jerusalem and the “New City” at the end of the Second Temple period (based on the map published in Geva 1993: 718).

(or about 300 acres) was added to the more than 600 dunams enclosed within the First Wall and Temple Mount. By the end of the Second Temple period, the intramural area of Jerusalem extended over more than 1,800 dunams.

On the “New City” of Second Temple Period Jerusalem

301

The northern sector of Second Temple period Jerusalem was traversed by two valleys, descending from north to south, creating three hills. The eastern hill is situated between the Kidron Valley to the east and the Bezetha Valley to the west. West of the Bezetha valley and east of the Tyropoeon Valley is the central hill. The Antonia Fortress and the northwestern corner of the Temple Mount enclosure were constructed on the southern reaches of the hill. The Tyropoeon descends on a gradual slope southward, consisting of a broad, shallow basin in its upper part (north of the Old City), and becoming narrower and deeper as it continues southward (within the Old City). To its west is the Northwestern Hill, the highest part of the northern sector. It is bordered on the west by the upper reaches of the Hinnom Valley. The northern border of the sector was marked by the El-Joz Valley, which descends eastward toward the Kidron. The topography of this area undoubtedly influenced the nature and extent of the settlement area, as well as the course of the Third Wall, the fortification around northern Jerusalem at the end of the Second Temple period. In this article, I will draw on archaeological discoveries in an attempt to trace the chronological development and urbanization processes in the northern hills of Jerusalem at the end of the Second Temple period. I have no intention of revisiting the issue of the course and date of the Second and Third Walls, which has been discussed from various viewpoints by many (see Simons 1952: 282–344; Avi-Yonah 1968; Geva 1993: 736, 744–45; Wightman 1993: 159–84). The discussion will rely on published excavation results, particularly ceramic finds. Other small finds of the Second Temple period (coins, stone, etc.) will be noted when relevant. Unfortunately, many excavations have thus far been published only in brief preliminary reports that do not present ceramics or other finds; these will be noted only in cases when defined chronological contexts within the Second Temple period have been reported. The study cannot take into consideration the quantitative aspect of ceramic finds, because no statistics are mentioned in the published material. The published Second Temple period pottery from the northern sector of Jerusalem now warrants a typological-chronological reconsideration (based on published drawings), given the recent publications of Judean pottery-types of the Hasmonean and Herodian periods from the Jewish Quarter in the Old City of Jerusalem (Geva 2003a; Geva and Rosenthal-Heginbottom 2003; Geva and Hershkovitz 2006), Jericho (Bar Nathan 2002), and Masada (Bar Nathan 2006). A comparative analysis can now be carried out in an attempt to better ascertain the dates of the finds retrieved from the northern sector of Jerusalem and perhaps to reach conclusions on the urban development of the sector at the end of the Second Temple period.

The Archaeological Finds in the Northern Sector of Jerusalem Over the past few decades, there have been numerous archaeological excavations in the northern sector of Second Temple period Jerusalem (the Christian and Muslim Quarters in the northern part of the Old City and areas just north of the Old City). Nevertheless, the number of excavations in this part of the city, as well as the

302

Hillel Geva

total area excavated, is far smaller than that of other areas of the city—the City of David, the Ophel, and the Southwestern Hill. Most sites in the northern sector are quite limited in size, generally restricted to areas uncovered for the construction of modern buildings. Archaeological activity has thus largely focused on the external side of the northern Old City wall and along the northern line of the Third Wall. Nonetheless, the archaeological discoveries to be summarized below do allow us to grasp the developmental process of the urbanization of the northern sector in the Second Temple period. The Second Temple period layers in the northern sector were often deposited directly on bedrock, though occasionally on a First Temple period occupational layer. Excavators in the area have generally encountered artificial earth fills, and only rarely architectural remains, which are detailed below. It is assumed here that the Second Temple period fills accumulated as debris over time or were moved from the immediate vicinity and deposited by man or nature. To the best of our knowledge, the fills yielding artifacts were not brought from considerable distances, as part of earthworks for construction, for example, or for agricultural purposes. Instead, the Second Temple period finds were part of localized accumulations of debris resulting from human domestic, agricultural, or industrial activity. Some finds unquestionably related to stone-quarrying, which was quite common in the northern sector of Second Temple period Jerusalem, as is evidenced by the quarries from the period exposed along the line of the Third Wall (Ben-Arieh and Netzer 1974: 97–98; Tzaferis et al. 2000: 287; Sklar-Parnes et al. 2006: 12*–13*) or those from the First Temple period that continued in use in the Second Temple period (for a summary, see Gibson and Taylor 1994: 51–63). Of the published architectural and ceramic finds from various excavations in the northern sector of Jerusalem, those relevant to the discussion here are surveyed below. The excavations are divided into two groups: those whose ceramics and other finds have been published, and those whose finds are mentioned only in preliminary reports, requiring us to rely on the dating provided in the reports. Within these groups, excavations are mentioned from south to north—from within the Old City to areas north of it. In some cases, where necessary, I have revised the published dates given for some Second Temple period ceramics based on renewed typological analysis. As stated, this study will use ceramics to trace the urban development of Jerusalem’s Second Temple period northern sector. I have thus attempted to identify the earliest Second Temple period ceramic types recovered from the various sites.

Excavations With Published Ceramics Church of the Redeemer, the Muristan A few pottery sherds dated by the excavator to the Persian period were found (Vriezen 1994: Pl. V.1), though most of the published Second Temple period pottery dates to the Hellenistic and Roman periods (Vriezen 1994: Pls. VI.1–VI.7, VI.10, IX.1–IX.2: 1–11). Based on my renewed analysis of the pottery typology of these

On the “New City” of Second Temple Period Jerusalem

303

periods, only a few specimens are attributable to the Hellenistic period (the 3rd– 2nd centuries b.c.e.), a larger number to the 1st century b.c.e., and the vast majority to the 1st century c.e. El-Wad Street (Opposite the Third Station of the Via Dolorosa) The corner of a late First Temple or Hellenistic period structure and Second Temple period pottery sherds were revealed under the pavement stones of the eastern cardo of Aelia Capitolina. Only a few sherds date to the late Hasmonean period (1st century b.c.e.), while most are characteristic of the Herodian period, primarily the 1st century c.e. (Kloner and Bar-Nathan 2007: 193–200, figs. 3–4). The External (Northern) Face of Damascus Gate Uncovered inside a cistern along the outer (northern) face of the western tower of the Damascus Gate were two courses of a wall, built of large masonry with drafted margins, typical of the Herodian period (Hamilton 1944: 25–26, pl. VI). There is a dispute among scholars over the identity and significance of this fragmentary wall from the Second Temple period (for a summary of the opinions, see Geva and Bahat 1998: 228). The remains of two terrace walls, fragments of floors, and Second Temple period pottery from the Hasmonean and primarily the Herodian periods (1st centuries b.c.e. and c.e.) were exposed in later excavations at the site. All were found in lower earth layers (Wightman 1989: 99–100; and see Chart III; pls. 1–2; 25:9–14; 26–29); the ceramic material presented on these plates is mixed, including a few Iron Age sherds but mostly from the Second Temple period. Many late Second Temple period sherds were also mixed in with later layers. A few Persian period sherds were also reported (Wightman 1989: 99, s. 26:10, 29:15). Based on my revised typological analysis of these sherds, it emerges that only a few are characteristic of the Persian and the Early Hellenistic periods; slightly more are of the 1st century b.c.e.; while the majority are of the Herodian period, namely the 1st century c.e. Along the Old City Wall, East and West of Herod’s Gate Earth layers on bedrock in two excavation areas (Soundings B, C) yielded Second Temple period pottery (Hamilton 1944: 29–30, 43–45, figs. 14, 20). They appear to me to date to the 1st century c.e. Later limited excavations in the area unearthed more Second Temple period pottery, together with coins of Agrippa I (Hadashot Archaeologiot 1976: 33). North of the Northeastern Corner of the Old City Pottery from the Late Hellenistic (the 1st century b.c.e.) and Early Roman periods (the 1st century c.e.) was uncovered at the Rockefeller Museum (Zilberbord 2005: fig. 5:2–6, 9). An examination of the pottery reveals that it is basically a Herodian assemblage, with the vast majority dating to the 1st century c.e. Discovered west of the Rockefeller Museum were the remains of a Second Temple period quarry that contained sherds dated to the Early Roman period (Abu Raya 2000: 68*, fig. 133:2– 9). More specifically, the finds should be dated to the 1st century c.e.

304

Hillel Geva

The “Opus Reticulatum Building,” Northwest of Damascus Gate A few Herodian sherds were published from the excavation of the “opus reticulatum building,” which is suggested to have been built during the reign of Herod (Netzer and Ben-Arieh 1983: 171–72, fig. 5:1–11). The Northern Line of the Third Wall Excavations conducted on the outer face of the central segment of the northern line of the “Third Wall” unearthed 1st-century-c.e. pottery (Hamrick 1985: 219–20, fig. 81:2–30). Uncovered on the inner side of the wall was a chamber built against it, containing pottery of the 1st century c.e. (Ben-Arieh and Netzer 1974: 102–5, fig. 4:1–16). Pottery of that century was also exposed in another excavation on the inner side of the wall (Abu Raya 1998: fig. 164:2–4). Safra Square, North of the Northwestern Corner of the Old City One sherd of the 1st century c.e. has been published from this excavation (Maier and Bahat 2004: fig. 13:4). Also found at the site was a Yehud stamp of a 2nd century b.c.e. type and an imported Greek stamped amphora handle of a type characteristic of the 2nd–1st centuries b.c.e. (Ariel 2004: 183–84, fig. 14), both somewhat unexpected discoveries considering that no Hellenistic layer was reported at the site. These finds can be related to a site excavated by O. Sion in 2008, in the western part of the Russian Compound (north of the line of the Third Wall). Pottery of the Hellenistic to Roman period (2nd century b.c.e.–1st century c.e.) was found (Sion pers. comm.).

Excavations Without Published Ceramics The “Ohel Yitzhak” Building along Southern Ha-Gai Street The remains of a monumental staircase of the Herodian period were discovered, descending toward the Temple Mount. Nearby were wall and floor fragments of the same period (Barbé and De‘adle 2006: 19*–21*). Church of St. Anne, North of the Temple Mount and Near Lion’s Gate A pair of large rock-cut reservoirs, identified as the Bethesda-Probatica pools ( John 5:2–4), and a number of adjacent hewn installations have been exposed in the compound of the Church of St. Anne. The installations are the remains of a pagan healing complex originating in the Hasmonean period and used throughout the Second Temple period; alterations and additions were carried out in the Late Roman period (for a summary, see Benoit 1968: 53*–57*; for a bibliography, see Gibson 2005: 287 n. 29). The results of the various excavations at the site are now being prepared for final publication. It seems that the Bethesda pools were first built during the reign of Herod; the adjacent remains are the ground-floor rooms of a sizeable and elaborate structure (or structures) of the 1st century c.e., which included rock-cut cellars, vaulted rooms, cisterns, and a stepped and plastered miqveh (Gibson 2005: 285–88, especially nn. 29–30). The fills also yielded relatively few sherds of the 1st century c.e. (Gibson pers. comm.).

On the “New City” of Second Temple Period Jerusalem

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The Muristan, the Christian Quarter A thick earth layer containing mixed sherds of the Iron Age to the Late Roman period was uncovered at the bottom of the excavation site (Area C). Second Temple period pottery dates to the 1st century c.e. (Kenyon 1964: 14–16; 1974: 229–30). The Church of the Holy Sepulchre, the Christian Quarter Some “Early Roman” sherds from excavations within the church complex have been published in a photograph (Corbo 1981: photo 25). A few are diagnostic, identifiable as characteristically 1st-century-c.e. vessels. No Second Temple period finds have been reported from excavations within the Chapel of St. Vartan in the church. Some building stones with drafted margins and a protruding boss, characteristic of the Second Temple period, were found in secondary use. It has been suggested that the stones likely originated from a structure of that period in the vicinity, perhaps the Second Wall (Broshi and Barkay 1985: 123–24). East of Herod’s Gate, on the Inner Side of the Old City Wall Hasmonean finds were uncovered in an earth layer on bedrock (Baruch and Avni 2001: 96). The main remains are three wall fragments, built on different terraces, and an abundance of ceramics of the 1st century c.e. (Baruch and Avni 2000: 57–61; Avni et al. 2001: 77*–78*). A few Second Temple period sherds from these excavations have been illustrated in an unpublished M.A. thesis, though the poor quality of the drawings does not allow for a more precise typological distinction (WekslerBdolah 2003: 69–70). The Northwestern Corner of the Old City Excavations on the interior side of the northwestern corner of the Old City wall revealed 1st-century-c.e. pottery deposited in later fills (Weksler-Bdolah 2000: 202; 2006a: fig. 3:7–8). The Northern Line of the Third Wall On bedrock within the central segment of the northern line of the Third Wall was an archaeological layer in which the corner of a room and pottery sherds of the 1st centuries b.c.e. and c.e. were found. Most of the finds are dated by the excavators to the First Revolt (Sklar-Parnes et al. 2006: 11*–13*, fig. 3). Outside of the Northwestern Corner of the Old City Late layers including pottery of the 1st century c.e. were encountered (Bahat and Ben-Ari 1976: 100; Weksler-Bdolah 2006b: fig. 2:1, 4–6, 8–9). North of the Old City Wall Herodian-period sherds were uncovered in a number of other places north of the Old City wall (Kloner 2001: 108*–9*, Site nos. 334, 336).

Summary and Conclusions The excavations in the northern sector of Jerusalem revealed a variety of Second Temple period remains, as demonstrated by the above survey of the excavation

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results. The findings include architectural remains, pottery and stone vessels, and coins. Although the evidence is far from complete—for reasons presented above—it does allow for the following preliminary conclusions. The primary structural remains from the northern sector of Jerusalem were exposed along the Bezetha Valley. Also found were chambers along the Third Wall and terrace walls originally built for agricultural purposes in the area of the Damascus Gate in the Upper Tyropoeon Valley (and perhaps also the corner of the structure revealed in the Tyropoeon, opposite the Third Station of the Via Dolorosa, possibly of the Second Temple period). The impression is that the Second Temple period archaeological layers along the Bezetha and Upper Tyropoeon Valleys (including the Damascus Gate area) accumulated to a greater depth than those in the area of the Third Wall, the northern boundary of Jerusalem at the time. Pottery often constitutes the only find from the Second Temple period in the northern sector of Jerusalem. Occasionally, such pottery was recovered within earth fills dated to that period, though often it was retrieved from mixed contexts deposited in later periods. Only a few sites yielded no Second Temple period finds whatsoever. A meager amount of early Second Temple period (Persian and Early Hellenistic) pottery was uncovered in the Church of the Redeemer and Damascus Gate area, insufficient to influence our understanding of the development of the city. The pottery likely reflects a localized occupation related to seasonal agricultural activity (for an identical interpretation of finds on the Southwestern Hill, see Tushingham 1985: 33–38; Geva 2003b: 524–26). Minimal pottery from the end of the Hasmonean and beginning of the Herodian periods (the 1st century c.e.) was found along the Upper Tyropoeon (within the Old City) and Bezetha Valleys. It thus seems that this pottery is concentrated just to the north of and close to the First Wall and Temple Mount. The overwhelming majority of pottery from the northern sector of Jerusalem dates to the later part of the Herodian period, the 1st century c.e. Most, if not all, of the building remains, as well as most of the coins, are also of this period. Furthermore, typical Herodian stoneware was unearthed at most of these sites. To sum up, the earliest finds from the Second Temple period in sites within the Old City are dated to the Persian or, in most cases, to the Hellenistic period, while the earliest finds from sites to the north of the Old City are of the Herodian period (1st century c.e.). An archaeologically based reconstruction of the urban development of the northern sector of Second Temple period Jerusalem demonstrates that the first substantial phase of settlement took place sometime in the 1st century b.c.e. along the Tyropoeon and Bezetha Valleys, north of and close to the First Wall and the Temple Mount. These two valleys, which descend southward toward the city, allowed for terraced agriculture and the easy storage and conveyance of water and served as foci of settlement activity. The initial center of settlement activity was in the Upper Tyropoeon Valley (where some pottery from the Persian and Early Hellenistic periods was found as well), presumably chosen for its suitable topography

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and location just west of the Temple Mount and near the domestic quarter on the Southwestern Hill. Settlement activity was likely bolstered by the added security provided by the earlier Baris and later Antonia Fortress northwest of the Temple Mount. The construction of the Second Wall is further evidence of the development and demographic growth of this part of the city ( J.W. 5.4.2 §146; 5.4.3 §158). The wall was certainly constructed at some point in the 1st century b.c.e., though the lack of specific historical evidence and the fact that no clear remains of the wall were uncovered make it difficult to establish whether it was built by the Hasmoneans or Herod. The meager and fragmentary finds discussed in this article do not help resolve the matter. The common view is that the Second Wall extended all the way up to the location of the Damascus Gate (Geva 1993: map on p. 718), though it possibly followed a shorter line (Maʿoz 1985: 51–53), one based on topographical and strategic considerations. The Tyropoeon markets, the Hasmonean Tunnel, and other installations in the area certainly influenced the course of the wall (for summaries on the Second Wall, see Avi-Yonah 1968; Geva 1993: 736; Levine 2002: 106–11). The main market of the northern sector of Jerusalem was located in the Tyropoeon from the early days of the Second Temple period (perhaps even the end of the First Temple period). Its importance as a commercial center rose with the building of the Second Wall and subsequently increased through the end of the Second Temple period ( J.W. 5.8.1 §331). Along this part of the Tyropoeon Valley passed the Hasmonean Tunnel, which conveyed runoff water from a reservoir located somewhere in the northern basin of the Tyropoeon southward toward the northern part of the Temple Mount (Bahat 2000: 185–88; for a view attributing the tunnel to the First Temple period, see Meshel 2000). The tunnel is the only unequivocal archaeological remain from pre-Herodian times in the northern sector of Second Temple period Jerusalem. The quarrying of the tunnel was a vital component in the water supply system of the city in that period. Constantly safeguarding it was likely to have required permanent occupational presence in this northern part of the city. Another focal point of settlement in the northern sector was the Bezetha Valley, north of the Temple Mount, where the largest concentration of Herodian building remains in the northern sector has been uncovered. A sizeable and important public reservoir was built at the base of the valley sometime prior to the construction of the Third Wall ( John 5:2–4), apparently during the reign of Herod. Settlement activity in the Bezetha Valley area was accelerated by its location next to the Temple Mount and the presence of the reservoir there. The northward expansion of Second Temple period Jerusalem did not cease with the construction of the Second Wall. Josephus mentions in regard to the construction of the Third Wall that crowded living conditions within the city had led to extramural growth ( J.W. 5.4.2 §§148–49). Jerusalem was bounded by the deep valleys surrounding it: the Kidron to the east and the Hinnom to the south and west. Thus, the only hospitable terrain left to be developed lay to the north, beyond the lines of the First and Second Walls and the Temple Mount. The archaeological finds indicate that the area north of the present-day Old City was first populated only in

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the 1st century c.e. Over time, the need arose for the Third Wall, its construction initiated by Agrippa I (Ant. 19.7.2 §§326–27; J.W. 2.11.6 §218; 5.4.2–3 §§147–59). The Third Wall enclosed a far larger area in the northern sector than that fortified by the Second Wall in an attempt to provide maximum security for an area with no significant natural defensive features. It appears to have been built to provide for the everyday security of the residents of the northern sector and also for military defense. The bold initiative was ended by the emperor Claudius, however, and completed hastily only during the First Revolt against Rome. The relative political quiet of the 1st century c.e. before the revolt, the added security provided with the construction of the Third Wall, and the increased economic support of Agrippa I in Jerusalem encouraged demographic growth in the northern sector of the city, the sole remaining area suitable for urban expansion (Levine 2002: 285–311). The 1st-century c.e. demographics of the sector likely consisted of Jerusalemites who had moved from more crowded areas of the city, new arrivals who came to the city from outlying areas to take advantage of the city’s burgeoning economy, and foreigners who settled in the city due to the encouragement of Agrippa I (Ant. 19.7.3 §§328–31). Josephus calls the northern sector of Jerusalem the “New City” or “Bezetha” ( J.W. 5.4.2 §§149–51). The two names were used synonymously to describe this area of Jerusalem during the period, though it seems likely that Bezetha was an earlier geographic term originally referring to the area north of the Temple Mount only (see Levine 2002: 337–40). The Bezetha quarter is said to have stood on the “Fourth Hill” of Second Temple period Jerusalem, which, according Josephus, was located north of the Temple Mount ( J.W. 5.4.2 §149). With the northward expansion of the city and the construction of the Third Wall, the Bezetha quarter was included within the “New City” (Baruch and Avni 2000: 52–55). It seems that the more inclusive name for the northern urban sector was the “New City.” It included the markets contained within the Second Wall, the Bezetha Valley, and the vast area to the north, enclosed by the Third Wall. The archaeological finds attest that this latter, northernmost area—beyond the Second Wall—was the last to be inhabited. It was populated primarily in the Herodian period (specifically, the 1st century c.e.). The evidence thus corroborates Josephus’ account. The growth likely did create a halachic problem related to the presence there of Jewish burials. No Second Temple period burials are known from the area within the Third Wall, perhaps because all were moved (together with any of the First Temple period) when the area was settled and fortified (Kloner and Zissu 2007). The archaeological remains from the large area north of the Old City are particularly sparse, bearing witness to a lightly populated sector demarcated by the Third Wall. Most of the land was likely used for agricultural cultivation (Wightman 1989: 100; Geva and Bahat 1998: 223–29). The northern sector contained one of the pilgrim camping areas for the annual festivals; it is perhaps the “plain” mentioned in this context (War 2.1.3 §12; 2.3.1 §44). The political and economic center of Jerusalem remained in the vicinity of the Temple Mount and on the Southwestern Hill, also known as the “Upper City.” Most of the city’s populace lived in the Up-

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per and Lower Cities, with only a relatively small number residing in the northern sector (Geva 2007: 56–58). With the quelling of the revolt against Rome, the development of this new area of Jerusalem came to a quick end before its urbanization had crystallized. Subsequently, the southern part of the area once enclosed by the Second and Third Walls (the northern Old City) continued to be included within the city’s fortifications. The northern part of the area (north of the Old City), on the other hand, would forever remain an extramural area. Ecclesiastical structures were built there in the Byzantine period. It was deserted in the Early Islamic period, and built anew only in modern times.

References Abu Raya, R.

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Aelia Capitolina: A Review of Some Current Debates about Hadrianic Jerusalem Jodi Magness

University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill

The Layout and Extent of Aelia Capitolina Archaeological remains associated with Hadrian’s city of Aelia Capitolina have proven to be among the most elusive in Jerusalem’s 5,000-year-long history, resulting in a lack of scholarly consensus with regard to the city’s extent and the location of key features such as the Capitolium and the camp of the Tenth Legion. There are a number of reasons for these difficulties, including the paucity and problematic nature of our historical sources, the obliteration of the Roman remains by Byzantine and later overbuilding, and the fact that until recently the local ceramic repertoire of the 2nd and 3rd centuries was virtually unknown. In this paper, I discuss some of the current debates surrounding Aelia Capitolina, focusing especially on the extent of the city and the location of the camp of the Tenth Legion. Recent numismatic finds indicating that Hadrian established Aelia Capitolina before 132 c.e. have laid to rest the controversy over whether the foundation of the Roman city was a cause or result of the Bar Kokhba revolt (see Eshel 2000: 637–43; 2006: 107). Aelia Capitolina’s population initially consisted of veterans and their families, civil administrators, and legionaries (Belayche 2001: 129). Around 200 Septimius Severus visited the city and renamed it Colonia Aelia Capitolina Commodiana Pia Felix (Eshel 200: 125; Meshorer 1989: 37–39). Elagabalus added the name Antoniniana, which appears on his coins and on brick and tile stamps of the Tenth Legion (Meshorer 1989: 63). However, Antoniniana stamps on bricks and tiles are rare and were used briefly in the early 3rd century, either under Caracalla and Elagabalus (212–222) or only during the reign of Elagabalus (218–222) (Barag 1967: 264; Geva 2003: 410, 412; Adler 2000: 125). Scholarly consensus has traditionally regarded Aelia Capitolina as corresponding roughly with the area of the modern Old City (see Tsafrir 1999: 141). A key source for this reconstruction is the late 6th-century Madaba mosaic map, which many scholars believe shows the original Roman city marked on the north by the triumphal arch at the site of the Damascus Gate and a Byzantine-period expansion onto Mount Zion and the City of David to the south. 1 However, N. Avigad’s 1.  For the Madaba map, see Avi-Yonah 1954; Donner 1992; Piccirillo and Alliata 1999. Eliav 2005: 102 shows that this concept originated in the late 19th century—long before the discovery of the Madaba Map—with Joseph Germer-Durand.

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1969–78 excavations indicated that there was little or no occupation in the area of the Jewish Quarter during the period of Aelia Capitolina. Avigad noted that all of the monumental architectural remains belonging to the period of Aelia Capitolina, including the triumphal arches at the Damascus Gate, the eastern forum (with the arch of Ecce Homo and the associated Lithostratos pavement), and the western forum (in the area of the Church of the Holy Sepulchre), are located in the northern part of the Old City—that is, north of the supposed line of the decumanus maximus represented by modern David Street (following the Transverse Valley) (Avigad 1983: 206). To account for this phenomenon, Avigad proposed that “the built-up area of Aelia Capitolina was restricted to the northern part of the town [that is, the northern half of the modern Old City], while the Tenth Legion camped in the south” (1983: 207). Hadrian’s grid plan was not extended south of the Transverse Valley until the Byzantine period (ibid.). Avigad’s proposal means that Hadrian’s city of Aelia Capitolina consisted only of the northern half of the modern Old City. This gives the city a compressed, truncated shape that contrasts with the square layout generally associated with Roman city-planning (see e.g., Bahat 1990: 63; Bar 1998: 14). N. Belayche (2001:132–33) and Y. Eliav (2005: 109, 116–24) have each attempted to resolve this problem by excluding the area to the north of the Temple Mount from Aelia (reviving an earlier suggestion by L.-H. Vincent). 2 I have suggested that the so-called Third Wall (to which I refer as the northern line), located about 400 m to the north of the Old City, was intended to serve as the north wall of Aelia Capitolina (see fig. 1). A triumphal arch with dedicatory inscriptions to Hadrian and Antoninus Pius that was discovered in the 19th century in the vicinity of the northern line apparently marked the northern entrance to Aelia Capitolina (I refer to this as the northern arch) (Magness 2000: 328–39, with discussion and references). 3 In a careful analysis, G. Avni has shown that burials of 2.  Their reconstruction leaves the eastern forum and sanctuaries along the Via Dolorosa outside the city (Belayche 2001: 136, 164; Eliav 2005: 116 notes that “if other evidence were to indicate that in Aelia this northeastern sector was part of the city, there might be reason to reconsider the matter, but it should not be annexed to the city just because of the Asclepieon on the site.” On the other hand, I see no reason to place the Asclepeion outside the city. The arch of Ecce Homo, which Belayche and Eliav identify as Aelia’s eastern gate, is inaccurately depicted on their maps aligned with the northwest corner of the Temple Mount, whereas in reality the arch is located to the west of this line; see Eliav 2005: 108, although on p. 271 n. 77 he states that “In reality, topographical constraints involving the hefty boulders in the northwest corner of the Temple Mount made it necessary to shift the arch somewhat west of the line of the Temple Mount wall.” In fact, L.-H. Vincent first suggested that the arch of Ecce Homo was the east gate of Aelia Capitolina; see Tsafrir 1999: 123 (Vincent’s plan of Aelia, with the arch is shown in its correct position to the west of the Temple Mount), and a discussion with references, p. 155. 3. The arch was discovered during the course of construction activity and was reported by Charles Clermont-Ganneau; see Clermont-Ganneau 1903–4: 188–99; Savignac 1904: 90–98; Vincent and Abel 1914: 36–39; Eck and Foerster 1999: 308–9 n. 74. There may be a reference to the Hadrianic inscription in the Annals of Eutychius, Patriarch of Alexandria in the 10th century: “The Greeks established themselves in Aelia and built a fortress. . . . On the top of it they placed a large tablet on which they wrote the name King Aelius” (from Belayche, 2001: 133, who identifies this with the inscription above the Damascus Gate, which however does not mention Hadrian or Aelius). Eliav 2005: 99–100, rejects the identification of these remains as a triumphal arch.

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Fig. 1: Plan of Aelia Capitolina, showing the northern line as the north wall of Hadrian’s city (from Magness 2000: 332, fig. 2), reproduced with permission of the Harvard Semitic Museum.

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the 2nd to 4th centuries are located to the north of the Third Wall, supporting my suggestion that the northern line was the urban boundary of Hadrian’s city (Avni 2005: 373–96). This means that Aelia Capitolina was laid out along the lines of a typical Roman city—that is, as roughly square. The monumental Hadrianic arch at the site of the Damascus Gate marked the entrance to a semicircular plaza in the center of the city, not at its northern edge. It is paralleled by the famous ovoid plaza at Jerash (Gerasa) in Jordan, a Decapolis city that was also visited and rebuilt by Hadrian (see Magness 2000: 334). My reconstruction means that Hadrian planned Aelia Capitolina as a walled city, contrary to current scholarly consensus (see, e.g., Belayche 2001: 133; Eliav 2005: 108; see also Magness 2000: 331). Paulus Orosius, a Christian apologist who visited Jerusalem in 415, mentions that Hadrian rebuilt the walls of the city: “and he restored the city to high prosperity by rebuilding the walls, giving orders that it be called Aelia after his own first name” (Orosius 1964: 308; 7.13.5 [Deferrari]; for the Latin, see Patrich 2002: 176 n. 12). If the northern line is indeed the Third Wall described by Josephus, this passage might refer to its reconstruction by Hadrian. Archaeological evidence indicates that, by the late 3rd or early 4th century, the northern line was abandoned and replaced by the current line of the north wall of the Old City (see Magness 2000: 336–37). Two major streets ran southward from the plaza at the Damascus Gate: the main Cardo (cardo maximus) and a secondary cardo along the Tyropoeon Valley. If my reconstruction is correct, the main cardo continued north from the site of the Damascus Gate to the northern arch. Hadrian also established two fora, one to the north of the Temple Mount and another on the western side of the city. A temple or shrine to Capitoline Jupiter was established on the Temple Mount or (according to some scholars) by the western forum, in the vicinity of the site later occupied by the Church of the Holy Sepulcher. 4 A temple to Venus (Aphrodite) was apparently erected by the western forum (roughly on the site of Golgotha) (see Tsafrir 1999: with references). Coins indicate that the cults of Sarapis and Dionysus were popular among the Roman soldiers of Aelia (Meshorer 1989: 26). Although no temple or shrine to Dionysus has been found, his attributes and a possible depiction of the god decorate some of the vessels produced in the legionary kiln works at Binyanei Haʾuma, and a marble capital with ivy leaves is in the collection of the al-Aqsa mosque. (For the kiln works, see Magness 2005: 69–191; for the capital with ivyleaves, see Meshorer 1989: 26, 43–44.) A healing sanctuary associated with Asclepius and Sarapis was located at the old Probatic Pools, by the later church of St. Anne (see Belayche 2001: 163–65; Eliav 2005: 113–16). In 1874, C. Clermont-Ganneau discovered two vases decorated with Mithraic iconography in excavations beneath houses on the north side of the Via Dolorosa. These vases may indicate there was a subterranean Mithraeum to the east of the Asclepeium (see Magness 2003: 163–71).

4.  See Tsafrir 1999: 157; for the latter opinion see Belayche 2001: 137–54. Eliav 2005: 85–91 argues that no shrine or temple to Capitoline Jupiter was ever erected on the Temple Mount. For the opposite view, see Kloner 2006: 239–47.

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The Location of the Legionary Camp Many of the controversies surrounding Aelia Capitolina concern the location of the Tenth Legion’s camp. Josephus mentions that the legion camped by the Herodian towers to the north of Herod’s palace (at the northwest corner of the Second Wall) after the fall of the city in 70 ( J.W. 6.413; 7.1–2, 5). However, excavations in the Citadel and the Armenian Garden have not revealed identifiable remains of barracks, although there are scattered deposits of stamped legionary tiles and bricks (see Tushingham 1985: 60–64; Geva 1994: 163). Nevertheless, some scholars locate the legionary camp on the western hill. According to Y. Tsafrir, the camp occupied the western hill but was obliterated by later overbuilding and left no discernible architectural remains (Tsafrir 1999: 127). Tsafrir, following Vincent, believes that the camp originally occupied the entire western hill (except Mount Zion) and that after the establishment of Aelia Capitolina it was limited to the western half of the western hill (the Citadel and the Armenian Garden), that is, the area to the west of the main Cardo (Tsafrir 1999: 129). G. Stiebel reverses this, proposing that the camp originally occupied a small area by the Citadel and that after the establishment of Aelia Capitolina it expanded in size and relocated to the southwest of the Temple Mount (from the secondary Cardo eastward) (1999: 68–103). According to Tsafrir, the camp had fortification walls right from the start, whereas Stiebel believes that only the later camp southwest of the Temple Mount was fortified (Tsafrir 1999: 124–35; Stiebel 1999: 89–91). According to H. Geva, the camp left few traces because it was unfortified and occupied only the western part of the western hill from 70 until the legion was transferred to Aila (Geva 2003: 414; 1984: 239–54). Some scholars argue that the absence of evidence on the western hill means that the legion was camped elsewhere. D. Bar places the camp in the northwest corner of the modern Old City—in the area of today’s Christian Quarter, around the Church of the Holy Sepulcher (1998). E. Mazar believes that the legionary camp was located on the Temple Mount and the area to its southwest, whereas Stiebel places the camp outside the southwest corner of the Temple Mount (E. Mazar 1999: 52, 58, 60). 5 E. Mazar’s and Stiebel’s suggestions are based on the presence of legionary structures to the southwest of the Temple Mount. Because these represent the only substantial architectural remains associated with the Tenth Legion discovered in the Old City, they cannot be dismissed easily. Furthermore, larger numbers of Aelia Capitolina coins have been discovered in the Temple Mount excavations than anywhere else in Jerusalem: 192, compared with only 6 from the Citadel and none from the Armenian Garden (see E. Mazar 1999: 58). The architectural remains include a legionary bakery abutting the south side of the pier of Robinson’s Arch. The ovens were paved with legionary bricks that had square or rectangular framed stamps. A bread stamp inscribed in Latin PRIM was discovered in one of the rooms. According to Mazar, the coins and pottery found under the floors of the ovens 5.  Stiebel 1999: 69 also notes the absence of fortifications for a legionary camp on the western hill.

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provide a terminus post quem during the reign of Antoninus Pius (138–61) (E. Mazar 1999: 55). 6 Stiebel notes that, in the western empire, legionary bakeries were typically located in the intervallum or were built into the earthen rampart surrounding the camp to distance the ovens from the barracks (1999: 72). A large legionary bathhouse that incorporates stamped bricks was uncovered northwest of the bakery. The excavated portion includes a caldarium, tepidarium, laconicum (a circular dry-sauna room), frigidarium, natatio (large pool), palaestra, and small latrine (E. Mazar 2000: 87–102; Perez 2000: 103–16). 7 A large public latrine was located outside the southeast corner of the bathhouse, along the east side of the pier of Robinson’s Arch (E. Mazar 2000: 92). Two milestones inscribed with the names of Vespasian and Titus were found to the southwest of the Temple Mount (one was built into the wall of an early Islamic palace) (E. Mazar 1999: 57–58; Isaac and Gichon 1998: 86). The name of the legionary commander and provincial governor was later obliterated from the inscriptions. B. Isaac and M. Gichon identify him as Flavius Silva, who was removed from office and suffered a damnatio memoriae after Domitian became emperor. 8 Their identification might be supported by a recent find: a fragment of a monumental Latin inscription on a massive limestone slab. This fragment turned up in the collection of the Islamic Museum on the Temple Mount. The five lines of preserved text record the dedication of an arch by Flavius Silva, apparently in honor of Vespasian and Titus (Gruell 2006: 183–200). 9 The legionary bakery and bathhouse required a large and steady supply of fresh water. The Herodian high-level aqueduct brought water from the area of Ain Arroub and Solomon’s Pools near Bethlehem. Inscriptions on stone segments of the aqueduct with the names of centurions of the Tenth Legion attest to reconstruction or repair activities in the year 195 (see Stiebel 1999: 76; Isaac 1998: 54; Tsafrir 1999: 163). Stiebel and E. Mazar believe that the aqueduct brought water to the southwestern side of the Temple Mount (where they locate the legionary camp), contrary to the usual view that the destination was the western hill. 10 Recent excavations indicate that the high-level aqueduct originally was built by Herod and that the legionary inscriptions are associated with its reconstruction or repair (see Amit 2002: 252–56). Under one of the early Islamic palaces to the southwest of the Temple Mount, Benjamin Mazar uncovered two rooms from the time of Aelia Capitolina (L1048, 1095). Two successive floor levels were discovered in these rooms. The earlier, original floor was thickly plastered and was covered with ash, attesting to destruction by 6.  See also Stiebel 1999: 71–74, including a discussion of the PRIM stamp. 7.  Stiebel 1999: 76 suggests that this bathhouse is one of the thermae mentioned in the Chronicon Paschale. 8.  Stiebel 1999: 82–86 suggests that the milestones were associated with the praetorium of the legionary camp, which he locates on the east side of the secondary cardo (the Tyropoeon Valley), based on Byzantine pilgrim accounts. 9. For a different reconstruction and dating (addressed by Gruell) see Eck 2005: 160–62. I thank Leah di Segni for bringing to my attention the latter reference. 10.  See Stiebel 1999: 76–7, who notes that there is no trace of the aqueduct after the area of St. Claire’s monastery near Hebron Road. For the traditional view see Tsafrir 1999: 163.

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fire. The upper floor, of small flagstones, was poorly preserved (B. Mazar 1971: 11). The finds included two small bronze figurines and a large number of dice (ibid.). 11 Although B. Mazar described all of the pottery from these two rooms as Roman, the oil lamps he illustrates date to the 3rd to 5th centuries. 12 In contrast, M. Ben-Dov illustrates discus lamps dating from the mid-1st to 3rd centuries from the excavations but without mentioning their provenience (1985: 198–99). B. Mazar observed that “The coins [from these rooms] were all found on the lower floor and up to about 2 meters above; they are from the period of Aelia Capitolina and are mostly city coins of the 3rd century c.e, including some of Aelia itself” (1971: 11). The same early Islamic palace yielded a monumental Latin inscription dedicated by the colony to Septimius Severus and his family (Avi-Yonah 1969: 22–24). 13 This inscription belonged to a monumental triumphal arch of Septimius Severus that apparently marked the southern entrance to the city (Cotton and Eck 1997: 11–20). Eliav suggests this may be the ancient south gate of the city mentioned by the Piacenza Pilgrim, while Stiebel identifies it as the gate through which the Bordeaux Pilgrim passed on his way to Mount Zion in 333 (Eliav 2005: 101; Stiebel 1999: 86). M. Avi-Yonah dated the inscription to the years 202–205, but H. Cotton and W. Eck note that it could have been erected on the occasion of Septimius Severus’ visit to Jerusalem in 199 (Avi-Yonah 1969: 23). 14

The Legionary Kiln Works The kiln works of the Tenth Legion were located at Binyanei Haʾuma (Givʿat Ram). The final publication of the pottery has yielded several unexpected results. First, the pottery types and technology are Roman and are alien to the native Palestinian tradition, indicating that the pottery was manufactured by military potters (Magness 2005: 106­–7). Second, the kiln-works produced pottery for only a relatively short period—perhaps only two to three generations in the 2nd century and apparently not into the 3rd century (it is not clear whether production began after 70 or only after 135). In other words, pottery production dates to the time of Hadrian and the later Antonines, but not later (although perhaps beginning earlier). This explains why Binyanei Haʾuma products have such a limited distribution, with the largest number of parallels coming from the Armenian Garden (Magness 2005: 104–5).

11.  The bronze figurines come from L1048. One is a barbarian horseman and the other is a young man. The young man has been identified as Apollo, but Stiebel 1999: 80 notes that the wings identify him as Mercury. The horseman is usually identified as a Celt, but other identifications have been proposed by Stiebel 1999: 80–81 (a Mauri soldier from North Africa) and by Franken 1999: 125–56 (an elephant rider). 12.  B. Mazar 1971: 8–9, fig. 9:9, 12, 17, which date to the 3rd to 5th centuries. For this type, see Magness 1993: 249–50. 13.  The inscription was dedicated suo sumptu—that is, at the expense of the city or one of its citizens. 14.  Cotton and Eck 1997: 19 suggest it was erected on the occasion of Septimius Severus’s visit to Jerusalem in 199. Stiebel 1999: 87 notes that the erection of milestones in 198–199 and the absence of milestones dated 202–207 in Israel supports the earlier date for the arch.

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Based on his study of the legionary stamps from the Jewish Quarter excavations, Geva reached the same conclusion about the dating of the Tenth Legion’s stamped bricks and tiles that I reached regarding the pottery: “Our conjecture is that the Tenth Legion workshops manufacturing building materials stamped with the legion’s name mainly operated during the 2nd century c.e.” (2003: 411). Geva’s conclusion contradicts the currently accepted chronology of the Tenth Legion’s stamped bricks and tiles, which dates the production to a 200-year period (see Barag 1967). In my opinion, Geva’s suggestion is supported by the fact that elsewhere in the empire (including at Dura Europos) Roman legions do not seem to have produced stamped bricks and roof tiles in the 3rd century. 15 The assignment of the Binyanei Haʾuma pottery to the 2nd century also means that my chronology of the late Roman pottery of Jerusalem needs to be revised. The local late Roman types appeared no later than ca. 200 or perhaps even earlier, instead of ca. 300. These types were inspired by and represent imitations of Binyanei Haʾuma products (Magness 2005: 105–6). Large numbers of these local Late Roman types were found in the fills beneath the Cardo and Justinian’s Nea Church. Presumably, some are associated with the 3rd-century (and perhaps even 2nd-century) settlement in Aelia Capitolina and not only with occupation in the 4th and 5th centuries. Perhaps this material originated in dumps associated with the camp of the Tenth Legion in Jerusalem, which were used or imported as fills to level the ground when Justinian constructed the southern extension of the Cardo and the Nea Church (2005: 106). If this is the case, it may help explain why the remains of the legionary camp have been so elusive. The controversies surrounding the extent of Aelia Capitolina and the location of the legionary camp are due largely to our inability to distinguish between developments that occurred (for example) between the two Jewish revolts and the reigns of Hadrian, the later Antonines, the Severans, and the rest of the 3rd century. This is reflected in the debates over the location of the legionary camp. For example, E. Mazar notes that all the legionary stamps discovered in the bakery and bathhouse to the southwest of the Temple Mount have a square or rectangular frame; there are no circular stamps, which D. Barag dates between 70 and 135 (E. Mazar 1999: 55; Barag 1967: 245–47). On the other hand, pipes found in situ in the Citadel bear circular stamps, although there are also roof tile fragments with rectangular legionary stamps (Geva 1994: 163). E. Mazar therefore suggests that the legion was camped by the Citadel from 70 to 135 and moved to the Temple Mount and its southwest corner of the Temple Mount after the establishment of Aelia Capitolina (E. Mazar 1999: 59). According to Stiebel, the legionary camp moved from the area of the Citadel to the Tyropoeon Valley by the late 70s, as indicated by the milestones with the dedicatory inscriptions to Vespasian and Titus. 16 Much of the development of the area southwest of the Temple Mount seems to have occurred after the initial establishment of Aelia Capitolina, especially during 15.  I owe this observation to Simon James (pers. comm.). 16.  Stiebel 1999: 90–91, although he notes that the camp could have moved when Aelia Capitolina was established.

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the reign of Septimius Severus, when a monumental arch was erected in this area. Septimius Severus’ military reforms allowed soldiers to marry and increased family settlements in Aelia, especially outside the camp (Belayche 2001: 127, 129). The expansion of the settlement would have been one consequence of these reforms and is reflected in the establishment of villas at ʿEn Yaʿel and Ramat Rahel. 17 The continued refinement of the chronology of the local pottery and legionary stamps should enable us better to understand the development of Aelia Capitolina and to identify the location of the legionary camp. 18 17.  For ʿEn Yaʿel, see Edelstein 1990: 32–42; 1988–89: 54–57. Some of the pottery roof tiles found on the mosaic floor of the triclinium had stamps of the Tenth Legion. For Ramat Rahel, see Aharoni 1964. 18.  Since this essay was submitted for publication, new excavations by the Western Wall have brought to light remains of the secondary Cardo dating to Hadrian’s reign; see Weksler-Bdolah and Onn 2010.

References Adler, N.

2000 Stamped Tiles and Bricks of the Tenth Legion from the Temple Mount. Pp. 117–32 in Ingeborg Rennert Center for Jerusalem Studies: New Studies on Jerusalem, Proceedings of the Sixth Conference, December 7th 2000, ed. A. Faust and E. Baruch. Ramat Gan: Bar-Ilan University, 2000. [Hebrew] Aharoni, Y. 1964 Excavations at Ramat Rahel. Rome: Centro di Studi Semitici. Amit, D. 2002 New Data for Dating the High-level Aqueduct, the Wadi el Biyar Aqueduct, and the Herodion Aqueduct. Pp. 252–66 in The Aqueducts of Israel, ed. D. Amit, J. Patrich, and Y. Hirschfeld. Journal of Roman Archaeology Supplement 46. Portsmouth, RI: Journal of Roman Archaeology. Avigad, N. 1982 Discovering Jerusalem. Nashville: Thomas Nelson. Avi-Yonah, M. 1954 The Madaba Mosaic Map, With Introduction and Commentary. Jerusalem: Israel Exploration Society. 1969 The Latin Inscription from the Excavations in Jerusalem. Pp. 22–24 in The Excavations in the Old City of Jerusalem: Preliminary Report of the First Season, 1968, by B. Mazar. Jerusalem: Israel Exploration Society. Avni, G. 2005 The Urban Limits of Roman and Byzantine Jerusalem: A View from the Necropolis. JRA 18: 373–96. Bahat, D. 1990 The Illustrated Atlas of Jerusalem. New York: Simon and Schuster. Bar, D. 1998 Aelia Capitolina and the Location of the Camp of the Tenth Legion. PEQ 130: 8–19. Barag, D. 1967 Brick Stamp Impressions of the Legio X Fretensis. Bonner Jahrbücher 167: 244–67. Belayche, N. 2001 Iudaea-Palaestina: The Pagan Cults in Roman Palestine (Second to Fourth Century). Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck.

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Ben-Dov, M. 1985 In the Shadow of the Temple: The Discovery of Ancient Jerusalem. New York: Harper & Row. Clermont-Ganneau, C. 1899 Archaeological Researches in Palestine during the Years 1873–1874, vol. I. London: Palestine Exploration Fund. 1903–4 Recueil d’archéologie orientale, vol. VI. Paris: Ernest Leroux. Cotton, H. M., and Eck, W. 1997 Ein ehrenbogen für Septimius Severus und seine familie in Jerusalem. Pp. 11–20 in Donum Amicitiae: Studies in Ancient History, published on occasion of the 75th Anniversary of the Foundation of the Department of Ancient History of the Jagiellonian University (= Electrum 1), ed. E. Dąbrowa. Krakow: Jagiellonian University. Donner, H. 1992 The Mosaic Map of Madaba: An Introductory Guide. Kampen, The Netherlands: Kok Pharos. Eck, W. 2005 Ehret den Kaiser: Bogen und Tore als Ehrenmonumente in der Provinz Iudaea. Pp. 153–65 in The Words of a Wise Man’s Mouth are Gracious (Qoh 10, 12): Festschrift for Günter Stemberger on the Occasion of his 65th Birthday, ed. M. Perani. New York: Walter de Gruyter. Eck, W., and Foerster, G. 1987 Ein Triumphbogen für Hadrian bei Tel Shalem (Beth Shean). JRA 12: 294–313. Edelstein, G. 1988–89  En Yaʿel – 1987. ESI 7–8: 54–57. 1990 What’s a Roman Villa Doing Outside Jerusalem? BAR 16/6: 32–42. Eliav, Y. Z. 2005 God’s Mountain: The Temple Mount in Time, Place, and Memory. Baltimore: Johns Hopkins University Press. Eshel, H. 2000 The Date of the Founding of Aelia Capitolina. Pp. 637–43 in The Dead Sea Scrolls Fifty Years After Their Discovery: Proceedings of the Jerusalem Congress, July 20–25, 1997, ed. L. H. Schiffman, E. Tov, and J. C. VanderKam. Jerusalem: Israel Exploration Society. 2006 The Bar Kochba Revolt, 132–135. Pp. 105–27 in vol. IV of The Cambridge History of Judaism: The Late Roman-Rabbinic Period, ed. S. T. Katz. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Franken, N. 1999 Elefantenreiter, zum Typus der Barbarenstatuette aus Grosssachsenheim. Jahrbuch des Deutschen Archäologischen Instituts 114: 125–56. Geva, H. 1984 The Camp of the Tenth Legion in Jerusalem: An Archaeological Reconsideration. IEJ 34: 239–54. 1994 Excavations at the Citadel of Jerusalem, 1976–1980. Pp. 156–67 in Ancient Jerusalem Revealed, ed. H. Geva. Jerusalem: Israel Exploration Society. 2003 Stamp Impressions of the Legio X Fretensis. Pp. 405–22 in vol. II: The Finds from Areas A, W and X-2, Final Report, by H. Geva. Jewish Quarter Excavations in the Old City of Jerusalem conducted by Nahman Avigad, 1969–1982. Jerusalem: Israel Exploration Society. Gruell, T. 2006 A Fragment of a Monumental Roman Inscription at the Islamic Museum of the Haram ash-Sharif, Jerusalem. IEJ 56: 183–200.

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Isaac, B. 1998 Milestones in Judaea. Pp. 48–75 in The Near East under Roman Rule, by B. Isaac. Leiden: Brill. Isaac, B., and Gichon, M. 1998 A Flavian Inscription from Jerusalem. Pp. 76–86 in The Roman Near East under Roman Rule, by B. Isaac. Leiden: Brill. Kloner, A. 2006 The Dating of the Southern Decumanus of Aelia Capitolina and Wilson’s Arch. Pp. 239–47 in vol. II of Ingeborg Rennert Center for Jerusalem Studies: New Studies on Jerusalem, ed. E. Baruch, Z. Greenhut, and A. Faust. Ramat-Gan: Bar-Ilan University. [Hebrew] Magness, J. 1993 Jerusalem Ceramic Chronology circa 200-800 c.e. Sheffield: Sheffield Academic Press. 2000 “The North Wall of Aelia Capitolina. Pp. 328–39 in The Archaeology of Jordan and Beyond: Essays in Honor of James A. Sauer, ed. L. E. Stager, J. A. Greene, and M. D. Coogan. Studies in the Archaeology and History of the Levant 1. Winona Lake, IN: Eisenbrauns. 2003 A Mithraeum in Jerusalem? Pp. 163–71 in One Land – Many Cultures: Archaeological Studies in Honour of Stanislao Loffreda ofm, ed. G. C. Bottini, L. Di Segni, and L. D. Chrupcala. Jerusalem: Franciscan Printing Press. 2005 The Roman Legionary Pottery. Pp. 69–191 in Excavations on the Site of the Jerusalem International Convention Center (Binyanei Haʾuma): A Settlement of the Late First to Second Temple Period, the Tenth Legion’s Kilnworks, and a Byzantine Monastic Complex. The Pottery and Other Small Finds, ed. B. Arubas and H. Goldfus. Journal of Roman Archaeology Supplement 60. Portsmouth, RI: Journal of Roman Archaeology. Mazar, B. 1971 The Excavations in the Old City of Jerusalem Near the Temple Mount: Preliminary Report of the Second and Third Seasons 1969–1970. Jerusalem: Hebrew University. Mazar, E. 1999 The Camp of the Tenth Roman Legion at the Foot of the South-West Corner of the Temple Mount Enclosure Wall in Jerusalem. Pp. 52–67 in Ingeborg Rennert Center for Jerusalem Studies: New Studies on Jerusalem, Proceedings of the Fifth Conference, December 23rd 1999, ed. A. Faust and E. Baruch. Ramat Gan: Bar-Ilan University. [Hebrew] 2000 The Roman-Byzantine Bathhouse at the Foot of the Western Wall of the Temple Mount. Pp. 87–102 in Ingeborg Rennert Center for Jerusalem Studies: New Studies on Jerusalem, Proceedings of the Sixth Conference, December 7th 2000, ed. A. Faust and E. Baruch. Ramat Gan: Bar-Ilan University. [Hebrew] Meshorer, Y. 1989 The Coinage of Aelia Capitolina. Jerusalem: The Israel Museum. Patrich, J. 2002 On the Lost Circus of Aelia Capitolina.” Scripta Classica Israelica 21: 173–88. Paulus Orosius 1964 The Seven Books of History against the Pagans. Translated by Roy. J. Deferrari. Washington DC: The Catholic University of America Press. Perez, R. 2000 The Bathhouse from the Temple Mount Excavations.” Pp. 103–16 in Ingeborg Rennert Center for Jerusalem Studies: New Studies on Jerusalem, Proceedings of the Sixth Conference, December 7th 2000, ed. A. Faust and E. Baruch. Ramat Gan: Bar-Ilan University. [Hebrew]

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Piccirillo, M., and Alliata, E., eds. 1999 The Madaba Map Centenary 1897–1997: Travelling Through the Byzantine Umayyad Period, Proceedings of the International Conference Held in Amman, 7–9 April 1997. Jerusalem: Studium Biblicum Franciscanum. Savignac, R. P. 1904 Inscription romaine et sépultures au nord de Jerusalem. RB 1: 90–98. Stiebel, G. D. 1999 The Whereabouts of the Xth Legion and the Boundaries of Aelia Capitolina.” Pp. 68–103 in Ingeborg Rennert Center for Jerusalem Studies: New Studies on Jerusalem, Proceedings of the Fifth Conference, December 23rd 1999, ed. A. Faust and E. Baruch. Ramat Gan: Bar-Ilan University. [Hebrew] Tsafrir, Y. 1999 The Topography and Archaeology of Aelia Capitolina.” Pp. 115–66 in The History of Jerusalem, The Roman and Byzantine Periods (70–638 c.e.), ed. Y. Tsafrir and S. Safrai. Jerusalem: Yad Ben-Zvi. [Hebrew] Tushingham, A. D. 1985 Excavations in Jerusalem 1961–1967, vol. 1. Toronto: Royal Ontario Museum. Vincent, L.-H. and Abel, F.-M. 1914 Jérusalem Nouvelle. Paris: Gabalda. Weksler-Bdolah, S., and Onn, A. 2010 Remains of the Roman Eastern Cardo in the Western Wall Plaza. Qadmoniot 43 no. 140: 123–32. [Hebrew]

The Urban Layout of Byzantine-Period Jerusalem Oren Gutfeld

The University of Michigan

Introduction More than 20 segments of ancient paved streets have been exposed in Jerusalem during the various archaeological excavations undertaken in the city since the late 19th century, dating between the end of the Second Temple period and the medieval period. Two of the streets comprised the main north–south thoroughfares of the city in the Roman and Byzantine periods: the western was the primary Cardo, or Cardo Maximus, and the eastern, or the secondary Cardo. These impressive colonnaded streets served as the city’s primary traffic arteries as well as hosting much of the city’s commercial life in the shops along their route (Bar 2002: 160–61). The other streets were narrow and inferior; their route was generally determined by topography and thus did not subscribe to a fixed orientation (fig. 1). Examination of the street layout within the urban structure of Byzantine-period Jerusalem indicates that the city’s planning was based on the general plan of Aelia Capitolina. The Byzantine-period builders worked in accordance with the stillexisting Roman-period streets. This may be particularly noted in the northern part of the city where, for the most part, the Roman layout has been preserved. The meticulous street-planning in this part of the city is reflected in the Madaba Map and may also be observed in aerial photographs and in the planning of the modern Christian and Muslim quarters, located in the northern part of the Old City (Vincent and Abel 1926: 1–88; Wilkinson 1975: 118–36; Tsafrir 1999a: 115–66; Bar 2002: 165). The picture differs in the southern part of the city, which was rebuilt as part of its expansion in the Byzantine period. Construction in this part of the city is characterized by a practical, sturdy approach to design, coupled with, to some degree, an almost sloppy street layout, which may have resulted from the rapid population increase and city expansion of that period (Tsafrir 1999b: 295– 300). Scholars continue to disagree over the location of the southern limit of Aelia Capitolina, as well as that of the city wall and gates in the Roman and Byzantine periods. This topic, however, is beyond the scope of the present study and thus cannot be discussed in further detail (Avigad 1983: 213–29; Eliav 1999: 101–17; Tsafrir 1999a: 135–42). Author’s note: I wish to thank Prof. Yoram Tsafrir and Hillel Geva for their valuable comments and suggestions, Ravit Nenner-Soriano for preparing the figures, and Michal Haber for her English translation and editing.

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Fig. 1.  The street/urban layout of Byzantine-period Jerusalem.

Ancient paving stones exposed in Jerusalem’s Old City differ in characteristics: street segments discovered in the northern part of the city were constructed of large, thick slabs (0.25–0.35 m thick) laid at an angle to the street axis and are gen-

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Key to Fig.1 (opposite) Street Street Location

Excavated/Documented by

1 Mt. Zion (“House of Caiaphas”) 2 Southern slope of Mt. Zion 3 Eastern slope of Mt. Zion 4 Eastern slope of Mt. Zion 5 Eastern slope of Mt. Zion   (Church of St. Peter in Gallicantu) 6 Eastern slope of Mt. Zion 7 Eastern slope of Mt. Zion 8 City of David, the southern Tyropoeon Valley 9 Northern City of David, the Ophel 10 The Southwestern Hill (east of the Zion Gate) 11 The Southwestern Hill (the Jewish Quarter) 12 The Southwestern Hill (the Hurva Synagogue) 13 Ha-Gai Street, west of the Dung Gate   (outside the Old City wall) 14 Ha-Gai Street, west of the Dung Gate   (inside the Old City wall) 15 Ha-Gai Street, western Western Wall plaza 16 Ha-Gai Street, north of Wilson’s Arch   (Ohel Yitzhak Synagogue) 17 Ha-Gai Street, north of Wilson’s Arch 18 Ha-Gai Street, between the Street of the Chain   and the Cotton Market 19 Ha-Gai Street, adjacent to the Third Station of   the Via Dolorosa 20 Lions Gate Street, west of the Lions Gate 21 Eastern Street of the Chain, across from   Gate of the Chain 22 Street of the Christians (Christian Quarter)

Broshi Bliss and Dickie Germer-Durand Germer-Durand Germer-Durand, Diez Germer-Durand Germer-Durand Crowfoot and Fitzgerald Macalister and Duncan Avigad Avigad Geva and Gutfeld Ben-Dov Johns; Baruch and Reich; Weksler-Bdolah Baruch and Reich Barbé and Deadle Johns and Hamilton Hess and Eisenberg Magen Magen Abu-Raya; Gershuny; Kogan-Zehavi Chen, Margalit and Solar

erally dated to the Late Roman period (Tsafrir 1999a: 120). Other segments, found throughout the city, comprise large, thick stones in secondary use, as part of repair works undertaken in the Late Roman and Early Byzantine periods (Tsafrir 1999a: 146). Still others, particularly in the southern part of the city, were paved with thin stone slabs (0.1 × 0.5 m thick) hewn especially for this purpose and laid both parallel and perpendicular to the street axis. This type dates largely to the Byzantine period (Broshi 1977: 234; Tsafrir 2005: 18). Discussion of the urban layout of Byzantine-period Jerusalem is not without its methodological problems. The main problem is the low number of extensive excavations undertaken in the northern, densely populated, part of the city (today’s Christian and Muslim quarters). This comes in contrast to the numerous excavations that were carried out in the southern part of the city, especially following the reunification of the modern city after the Six Day War in 1967. We must also take into account the difficulty of securely dating the street segments, a situation that stems from the fact that in many cases the slabs were not lifted in order to excavate

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the sealed loci underneath. Moreover, certain segments were excavated more than a century ago, leaving us with less than reliable data regarding their dating. Finally, the streets themselves were in use for an extended time period. The following is a survey of street segments exposed during excavations in Jerusalem. Because of the high concentration of segments situated in the southern part of the city, they will be presented from south to north. Dating is based on excavation reports and partial surveys published by M. Broshi (1977: 232–35), H. Geva (1993: 762–65, 775–79), and Y. Tsafrir (1999a: 115–16; 1999b: 281–351). I propose two different time-frames for the paving of the streets during the Byzantine period: during the period of the city’s expansion southwards in the 5th century and when the city reached its height under Justinian I (527–565 c.e.).

Mount Zion  1 1. The excavation of the “House of Caiaphas” under M. Broshi in 1971–72 exposed part of a street with a north–south orientation, bounded by curbstones (fig. 1.1). The segment measures 5.4 m in width (18 Byzantine feet)—including curbstones, 6.4 m—and 44 m in length (Broshi 1976: 81–88). The paving slabs are of finely hewn hard limestone (mizzi hilu) ranging in size from 0.5 m × 0.6 m to 0.6 m × 1.45 m, with a thickness of 0.1–0.13 m. The street features two super­ imposed building phases, reflected in its width. A sophisticated water-drainage system was discovered under each phase. Broshi dated the street to the Byzantine period (1972: 107; 1976: 86–87; 1977: 232–35). Tsafrir believes that this street was originally an extension of the Via Praetoria, the north–south route of the Roman Tenth Legion camp (he argues that the camp was situated within the bounds of the modern Armenian Quarter), as well as a processional route that connected the Church of the Holy Sepulchre with the Church of Holy Zion during the Byzantine period (Tsafrir 1999b: 311). 2. Excavations in the southern part of Mt. Zion under F. J. Bliss and A. C. Dickie between 1894 and 1897 exposed two segments of a paved street (Streets 2a, 2b; figs. 1.2a, 1.2b). Ascending in a northeastern direction from Gate N in the Byzantineperiod southern city wall (fig. 2), it superimposes a drainage channel (Bliss and Dickie 1898: 52–53, 78–81). The street pavement is a combination of hewn bedrock and stone slabs. The slabs are not uniformly sized and measure up to 0.75 m × 1.2 m. Two hewn grooves are seen running along each side of the street, at equal depth, and exhibit—together with the street itself—a glossy shine resulting from years of extended use. Together, the segments measure 5.4 m in width and more than 100 m in length. A Greek-style engraved cross was discovered on the bottom of one of the slabs. The drainage channel, measuring 0.5–0.6 cm long and some 1.2 m high, was hewn in bedrock and covered by the street slabs. It drained rainwater and sewage through Gate N toward the Hinnom Valley. The street’s Byzantine-period dating is based on that of the floor level of Gate N, which, as mentioned above, was incorporated into the contemporaneous city wall (Pixner, Chen, and Margalit 1989: 85–95). 1.  The street segments are numbered according to the map in fig. 1.

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Fig. 2.  Remains of walls and streets on Mt. Zion (Bliss and Dickie 1898: Plan 1).

An additional street segment was discovered atop the western slope of Mt. Zion, situated today underneath the road that descends from the mount to the Church of St. Peter in Gallicantu (Street 2c; fig. 1.2c). The street measures slightly more

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than 5 m in width, approximately equaling its exposed length. The street is paved with stone slabs and superimposes a drainage channel, which is a continuation of the channel mentioned above. J. Germer-Durand dated the street to the RomanByzantine period (1914b: 44–47), while Tsafrir believes that a Byzantine dating is more plausible, since at that time the city wall enclosed the area of Mt. Zion (1975: 261). 3. Germer-Durand’s excavations on the eastern slope of Mt. Zion in the late 19th and early 20th centuries exposed a number of streets, some with a north– south orientation and others with an east–west orientation (figs. 1.3–1.7; GermerDurand 1914a: 244–45, pl. 3, photographs 3:XI, 4:XI). One street segment (fig. 1.3) was discovered by Germer-Durand some 50 m east of Street 2; (1914b: 46–47). C. Schick was the first to publish these remains (1894: 18), but Bliss and Dickie published both their own findings and those of GermerDurand, as well as mapping the street’s route (Bliss 1896: 212; Bliss and Dickie 1898: 78–82). The street was excavated in a few segments, from Point C in the south to Point Y in the north (fig. 2). 2 Its general orientation is north–south, with a slight inclination toward the northeast (less so than its western neighbor, Street 2, and thus the two are not entirely parallel). The street measures more than 150 m in length, and its average width of 5.4 m is similar to that of the other ancient streets on Mt. Zion. Between points R and V, the street runs along a rock-hewn slope, and therefore its western side lies on leveled bedrock and its eastern side lies on either a built terrace or support vaults (Bliss and Dickie 1898: 79). The large, thick paving stones range in size from 0.45 m × 0.75 m to 1.2 m × 1.8 m. Narrow curbstones bounded the street from either side, approximately 0.25 m above street level (similar to Street 1). In its width and construction style, this street bears a strong resemblance to Street 2, which ascends from Gate N in a northeastern direction. North of Point V the street deviates from its route with a sharply angled turn, apparently in order to circumvent the protruding bedrock in its path, and in this way saves resources otherwise expended on difficult hewing. Bliss and Dickie argued that the street was paved after the Second Temple period (1898: 78–82), while Germer-Durand ascribed a dating of the Late Roman or Byzantine period (1914b: 46–47); with some reservations, Tsafrir accepts the latter (1975: 263). 4.  Near the spot where Street 3 diverged from its route, Germer-Durand noted a street intersection (1914a: 244–45). One street diverged from another lengthwise street, descending eastward toward the Tyropoeon Valley (fig. 1.4), and another diverged from the latter, ascending westward toward Mt. Zion. Germer-Durand cites no additional archaeological data. 5.  Of the streets featuring an east–west orientation, one particularly noteworthy example is a stepped street that ascended from the City of David and the Tyropoeon Valley in the direction of St. Peter in Gallicantu and is exposed to the present day. In the north, it is built on a steep incline perpendicular to the slope of Mt. Zion and is situated adjacent to the church (fig. 1.5). The exposed street measures approximately 5.4 m × 100 m. Its steps are built of rectangular- and polygonal-shaped 2.  The use of Latin letters is based on Bliss and Dickie 1898.

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Fig. 3.  Western view of the stepped street near the Church of St. Peter in Gallicantu (no. 5).

stones, resting in part on hewn bedrock (fig. 3). Germer-Durand dated the street to the Second Temple period; however, Tsafrir believes this was part of a Christian processional route that connected the Church of Holy Zion located atop Mt. Zion with the Church of Siloam (1975: 264). In his excavations at the Church of St. Peter in Gallicantu, F. Diez exposed a small segment of stone pavement of a street that branched out northward from the stepped street (no. 5) and dated it to the Byzantine period (1997: 88–89). Germer-Durand exposed two additional segments on the eastern slope of Mt. Zion featuring a general north–south orientation. On the basis of their similarity to the other ancient streets known at the time in the city, he dated them to the Late Roman–Byzantine period (1914a: 244–45, pl. 1):

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6.  The first segment was discovered emerging from the lower part of the abovementioned stepped street (no. 5), running north (fig. 1.6). Paved with polygonalshaped stones, it measures 5.4 m in width (based solely on the published plan) and 6 m in length and superimposes a drainage channel. Its workmanship is inferior to that of the other streets. 7.  The second segment was exposed by Germer-Durand some 100 m northeast of the Church of St. Peter in Gallicantu and oriented southwest–northeast (fig. 1.7). While Germer-Durand argued that the paving stones are not in situ, a reconstruction of its route reveals a sharp deviation toward the northeast, leading to the conclusion that the street was redirected on purpose in order to lead it to the area of today’s Dung Gate.

The City of David and the Southern Tyropoeon Valley  3 8.  Excavations in the southern Tyropoeon Valley, some 14 m southeast of the Dung Gate (fig. 1.8), under the direction of J. W. Crowfoot and G. M. Fitzgerald, between 1925 and 1927, exposed remains of a street running in a north–south direction toward the Pool of Siloam (Crowfoot 1929: 9–16; Crowfoot and Fitzgerald 1929: 41–43). The street measures approximately 5 m × 40 m and, on the basis of additional exposed segments, a length of 60 m may be reconstructed. The street was paved with hard limestone slabs (mizzi hilu), each measuring 20 cm thick and the largest measuring approximately 1 m × 1 m. Buildings, apparently shops, flanked the street. Two drainage channels, one on top of the other, were discovered under the street. The upper is covered in reddish-pink plaster and is 0.48 m deep; the lower displays no traces of plaster and is 0.60 m deep. The street served as the main Byzantine-period southward traffic artery (Reich and Shukron 2006: 66–67) and was dated by the excavators to the 6th century c.e. (Crowfoot and Fitzgerald 1929: 41–42). 9.  Excavations in the northern part of the City of David led by R. A. S. Macalister and J. G. Duncan in 1923–1925 exposed a street running in a north–south orientation, measuring 3.75 m in width (fig. 1.9). The excavators believed that the street was paved in the Early Islamic period, but its origins were probably in the Byzantine period (Macalister and Duncan 1926: 63).

The Southwestern Hill and the Jewish Quarter 10. In 1976, N. Avigad discovered a stepped street on the inner side of the southern Old City wall, east of the Zion Gate, running in an east–west orientation (fig. 1.10). The street is paved in hard limestone (mizzi hilu) stone slabs ranging in size from 0.50 m × 0.90 m to 0. 65 m × 1.20 m. Its southern side was entirely 3.  Excavations near the Pool of Siloam led by Bliss and Dickie (1898: 132–77, pls. V, XVI) and excavations some 150 m north led by K. Kenyon (1974: 247–48, photographs 97, 100) revealed parts of a Second Temple-period stepped street. The street was covered in debris from the Second Temple period, indicating when it went out of use. Recently it was reexposed by R. Reich and E. Shukron, who support its dating (Reich and Shukron 2006: 66–67).

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Fig. 4.  Western view of the street east of the Zion Gate (no. 10).

destroyed and a segment measuring only 3.5 m wide and 30 m long has been preserved (fig. 4). The risers measure 0.15–0.20 m and the wide treads measure up to 1.9 m. The wide tread gave the street a very gentle incline, comfortable for walking. The slabs were laid on a foundation of gray bonding material mixed with small fieldstones. A drainage channel was discovered underneath the street, with some of its flat covering slabs in situ. A probe underneath the paving stones yielded 6thcentury c.e. pottery. 11. Avigad’s Jewish Quarter Excavations (1969–82), along Jews and Chabad streets, exposed a wide colonnaded street oriented north–south—the southern part of the Cardo Maximus that transversed the northern area of Aelia Capitolina (fig. 1.11; Avigad 1983: 213–29). The street emerged from a large plaza that, in turn, was entered through Damascus Gate. From there, it continued southward, with a slight southwestern deviation, along Beit Ha-Bad Street (Tarik Khan ez-Zeit). According to the Madaba Map, the street was colonnaded along its entire length and, indeed, some columns still stand today, especially in the area east of the Church of the Holy Sepulchre and what may have been the entrance to the city forum (Vincent and Abel 1926: 21–23). During the Crusader period, a market complex featuring three straight alleys was built directly over the Cardo (Bahat 1995: 78–80; Avni and Reem 1999: 60–61). The presumed location of the meeting point between the northern and southern parts of the Cardo is the Transversal Valley, at the meeting point of David Street, Jews Street, and the Street of the Chain. Here, the southern part continued southward, with a slight western deviation (Reich 1987: 164–67). The Cardo segment discovered in the Jewish Quarter has been reconstructed and is open to visitors.

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Fig. 5.  Avigad’s excavation areas in the Cardo.

The paving in the southern segment lies about 2.5 m below the surface of Jews Street. Its uneven width reaches 23 m and its length, some 180 m. The street’s southern part (Areas X-4–X-5) was paved directly over bedrock (fig. 5), which had been hewn for this purpose and was thus better preserved (fig. 6). As the street progresses northward in the direction of the Transversal Valley, the ground steeply descends. Although it was installed over earthen fill, a segment in the northernmost part of the exposed street (Area X-2) has been well preserved. Two drainage channels were discovered running underneath the street, one along each side. Also found along the street’s route were segments of stylobates, a complete in situ column, several column fragments, two in situ column bases, and several capitals and various architectural elements incorporated in secondary use in buildings—all assisting in the reconstruction of the appearance of the Cardo. On the west, the street was bounded by a built wall of dressed stones; on the east, by a row of arches that supported square pillars, also built of dressed stones; and in the area between the southern end of Area X-5 and the southern end of X-7, by a bedrock cliff (Gutfeld forthcoming). Two rows of columns divided the street into three parts. The central one, 12.6 m wide, was unroofed and is flanked on either side by a narrow aisle, 5.2 m wide, which was apparently roofed with tiles. Column bases are incorporated into the stylobate walls, which are partly stone-built and partly rock-hewn. These bases feature Attic profiles and are not uniformly sized. The reconstructed height of the monolithic columns (only a few were found in secondary use), including the base and capital, reached approximately 5 m. Three Byzantine-period Corinthian capitals were also found, each differently designed. No architrave fragments or keystones were found, leading to the conclusion that wooden beams were installed between the columns. A row of rooms, most likely shops, was discovered along the eastern side of the street. Some were stone-built and others were hewn from bedrock. In that area, at the bottom of the slope, the area of the shops was raised with earthen fill that was then leveled to the height of the sidewalk. The shops’ façade was constructed from vaults that supported the roof and, in turn, were supported by built pillars. Along the street’s western side, shops were found only in the southernmost part (Area X-7). At least four intact vaults were found, attesting to the appearance of the shops.

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Fig. 6.  Western view of a street segment in the southern part of the Cardo (no. 11).

The street was paved with flat, hard limestone slabs of poor quality. Most are cracked and even crumbling due to centuries of intense use, and some of the larger slabs exhibit a glossy shine, also a result of extended use. The slabs range in size from 0.30 m × 0. 45 m to 0.90 m × 1.10 m and 0.9–1.1 m thickness. They were

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Fig. 7.  Southern view of a street segment in the southern part of the Cardo (no. 11). The columns have been reconstructed.

generally installed perpendicularly to the street axis, and not diagonally, as known from other Roman- and Byzantine-period streets in Palestine. The street’s center line is emphasized by a row of flagstones installed in the direction of this street— that is, oriented north–south (Fig. 7). Scholars accept a dating of the Roman period—the period of Aelia Capitolina— for the northern part of the Cardo; however, Tsafrir disputes Avigad’s dating of the architectural history of the southern route. He agrees that the presently visible paving stones were installed in the Byzantine period but disagrees as to whether they were superimposed on an earlier street (Avigad 1983: 225–26; Tsafrir 1999a: 144– 45). Avigad argued that they did were not superimposed and dated the street to the reign of Justinian, based on the pottery found in the fills underneath the street (Magness 1993: 119–52) and on the architectural elements discovered along the street (albeit in secondary use). However, Tsafrir maintains that the southern extension of the Roman-period Cardo passed along this route (1999a: 132–43, 144–45 nn. 48–49). According to this theory, a 2nd- or 3rd-century road would have been entirely dismantled in order to pave a new—and lower—Byzantine-period street in its place (Tsafrir 2005: 18–22). However, it must be stressed that no remains of an earlier street in this part of the city have been found.

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Fig. 8.  Southeastern view of a street segment in the Hurva Synagogue (no. 12).

12. Excavations carried out in 2003 by H. Geva and O. Gutfeld in the Hurva Synagogue, situated in the center of the Jewish Quarter, revealed two segments of a street dating to the 6th century c.e. (Geva and Gutfeld 2004: 29–30; 2004: 239–46). The excavation area is located east of the southern part of the Cardo (Area X-6), and its western edge is only a few meters away from the rows of vaults lining the Cardo’s eastern side (fig. 1.12). The street in the synagogue is paved with stone slabs measuring 3.7 m × 10 m (fig. 8). They were laid directly on bedrock, installed between two rock-hewn edges upon which walls oriented north–south were built in order to support the street. The street was paved with large and well-hewn stone slabs, similar to those in the southern part of the Cardo, worn and cracked due to centuries of intense use. The street ascended eastward at a very slight incline (7.5%). Although its eastern side was destroyed by a later water cistern, it appears that it continues in this way until it reached a plaza or entrance to a building, which have not survived, as attested by a rock-hewn channel that ran eastward over the exposed street. Its western side continues westward, passing underneath an arch (today incorporated into a modern shop on Jews Street), until it meets the Cardo (Area X-6). The street can be seen by visitors in the basement of the new Hurvah Synagogue that was recently opened to the public.

Ha-Gai Street A number of street segments paved in stone slabs were discovered along HaGai Street (the Tyropoeon Valley), through which the secondary (eastern) Cardo passed. The main part of the Roman–Byzantine Cardo to the west of the Temple Mount featured a new route on the slope of the city’s western hill, some 90 m west of the route of the Second Temple-period road that was exposed adjacent to the Temple Mount precinct wall. The earlier road may have gone out of use following the Great Revolt, as is seen by the massive amounts of debris from the Temple

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Fig. 9.  View, looking east, of a street segment in Ha-Gai Street, south of the Old City wall (no. 13).

Mount precinct walls, which covered it (Ben-Dov 1982: 231). Remains of the Roman–Byzantine Cardo, which descended gently southward in accordance with the topography, were discovered in seven segments. They are described below from south to north: 13.  Excavations undertaken by M. Ben-Dov in 1973–77 west of the Dung Gate, south of the Old City wall (figs. 9, 1.13), exposed part of a paved street measuring approximately 12 m × 100 m (1982: 226–32). Ben-Dov argues that the paving stones “were taken from a Second Temple-period street and placed at this spot in secondary use” (1982: 226). They were installed directly over bedrock that had been leveled for this purpose. They are not uniformly sized—some are very large and others are medium-sized—and were laid perpendicularly to the street axis, similar to other streets in Byzantine-period Jerusalem. According to Ben-Dov, the pottery found underneath the paving stones dates to the Byzantine period (1982: 229; 1987: 115–19). This street segment is open to visitors. 14. Part of a paved street located west of the Dung Gate, on the inside of the Old City wall, was exposed during excavations led by C. N. Johns in the 1940s (fig. 1.14; Johns 1948). In the 1970s, Ben-Dov reexposed this same segment. The majority of the area was excavated under R. Reich and Y. Billig in 1994–96 and by Reich and Y. Baruch in the late 1990s (2000: 128–40; 2004: 147–60). Here, another street segment was discovered, ascending gradually from south to north. A deep, rockhewn drainage channel was found underneath. Its paving stones, most of which are in secondary use and are not uniformly sized, were laid directly over bedrock, which had been leveled for this purpose (fig. 10). The slabs were laid diagonally

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Fig. 10.  View, looking south, of a street segment in Ha-Gai Street, north of the Old City wall (no. 14).

to the street axis (less than 45 degrees), some in a rather careless fashion (Baruch and Reich 2004: 152, fig. 6). Today, this ancient street is incorporated in a modern pathway located in the Davidson Center archaeological park.

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Fig. 11.  View, looking south, of a street segment near the Third Station on the Via Dolorosa (no. 19).

15.  In 1996, a small part of a paved street was discovered at the western end of the Western Wall plaza, some 90 m from the Wall itself, along the line of the presumed route of Ha-Gai Street (fig. 1.15; Baruch and Reich 2004: 154). Excavations led by S. Weksler-Bdolah currently underway in the area have exposed additional, ca. 45-m-long and 11-m-wide remains of the street. The street was paved in a straight, north-northwest–south-southeast direction, sloping gently along a course parallel to the Western Wall. On either side of the street was a sidewalk, and beyond the western sidewalk was a row of shops, hewn in the bedrock cliff. The overall width of the street and the sidewalks, including the stylobate walls, reached ca. 23.5 m (Weksler-Bdolah et al. 2011). 16.  Excavation of the Ohel Yitzhak Synagogue, situated on Ha-Gai Street northwest of Wilson’s Arch, under H. H. Barbé and T. Deadle in the early 20th century revealed part of a paved street measuring 3–3.5 m × 14 m (fig. 1.16; Barbé and Deadle 2006: 23*). The paving stones were laid diagonally to the street axis; some display grooves intended to prevent slipping. The varying sizes of the slabs (the largest

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Fig. 12.  View, looking south, of the Lions Gate (no. 20).

measures 1 m × 1.6 m), along with the varying directions of the grooves, are the result of repairs to the street and of secondary use of the paving stones themselves, which may have been taken from an earlier floor or street. Pottery found in the sealed loci underneath the stones dates mainly to the late Second Temple period, but Byzantine-period types were also found—subsequently dating the street (Barbé and Deadle 2006: 24*). 17.  During the 1930s, three trial excavations were carried out in the center of Ha-Gai Street, exposing two levels of a paved street (fig. 1.17). The first excavation was led by Johns approximately 25 m south of the Cotton Market (1932: 97–100). Two other excavations were led by R. W. Hamilton: the first some 20 m south of Johns’ excavation (Hamilton 1932: 105–10) and the second about 85 m south of the first, in the area of today’s covered passageway between Ha-Gai Street and the western part of the Western Wall plaza (1933: 34–40). The upper level is paved with slabs of local mizzi hilu laid diagonally to the street axis. The largest slabs measure approximately 1 m × 1 m and are 0.3 m thick. A wellbuilt, vault-covered drainage channel was discovered underneath the first level,

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Fig. 13.  View, looking south, of the Street of the Christians (no. 22).

together with an additional street level. The latter was paved with stones similar to those of the upper level ( Johns 1932: 98). Both Johns and Hamilton dated the upper level to the reign of Constantine or Eudocia (4th or 5th century c.e.) and the lower level to the Second Temple period (Hamilton 1933: 39). 18.  Part of a street at a depth of 4 m below the modern street level was found in 1977 during a trial excavation carried out by O. Hess and E. Eisenberg in HaGai Street, in the area between the Street of the Chain and the Cotton Market (fig. 1.18). Its large stone slabs were laid diagonally to the street axis (Hess and Eisenberg 1977: 48). Pottery found in the fills above the ancient street date from the Byzantine period to the present day, whereas the pottery from underneath the street dates to the Late Roman period. 19.  In 1979–80, M. Magen exposed several segments of a street paved with large stone slabs, some pitted and worn, adjacent to the Third Station of the Via Dolorosa (figs. 11, 1.19). Discussion of the pottery and stratigraphy was undertaken by A. Kloner and R. Bar-Nathan (2007: 193–205). The paving stones that were removed in order to examine the fills underneath were replaced in the modern street level.

Lions Gate Street 20.  Part of a street at a depth of 3 m below the modern street level was exposed during excavation of Lions Gate Street, between the Ecce Homo Arch to the west and Lions Gate to the east (fig. 1.20, unpublished). The street was paved with large

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(1 m × 2 m), thick slabs whose upper face was flattened, similar to those of the Church of St. Anne and the Lithostrotos, dated to the time of Aelia Capitolina (Tsafrir 1999a: 120, 138, fig. 13). The paving stones that were removed were replaced at the modern street level (fig. 12).

Street of the Chain 21.  Excavations during the 1990s exposed a number of street segments in the eastern end of the Street of the Chain and in the plaza across from the Gate of the Chain. The Decumanus passed through this route during the Roman and Byzantine periods (fig. 1.21). 1. At the intersection of the alley that ascends from el-Wad Street (Ha-Gai Street) and the Street of the Chain (Abu Riya 1991: 134–35). 2. On the western side of the plaza of the Gate of the Chain, adjacent to Sabil Suleiman (Gershuny 1991: 135–36). 3. From the corners of Ha-Gai Street and the Street of the Chain to the plaza of the Gate of the Chain (Kogan-Zehavi 1997a: 104). 4. In the area bounded on the west by Sabil Suleiman, on the south by Madrasat al-Tankiziya, and on the north by the al-Baladiya building (KoganZehavi 1997b: 104–6). The street was paved with large stone slabs measuring up to 1.2 m × 2 m and 0.3–0.4 m thick and was oriented east–west. Two, displaying grooves oriented north–south, intended to prevent slipping, were found in the street’s northern portion. While L. Gershuny believes that the street dates to the Second Temple period, R. Abu Riya and E. Kogan-Zehavi argue that it was first paved in the 2nd century c.e., during the time of Aelia Capitolina, and repaired in the Byzantine or Early Islamic period. Today, several in situ paving stones may be seen incorporated into the Gate of the Chain plaza.

Street of the Christians 22.  A salvage excavation undertaken in 1977 by S. Margalit in the Street of the Christians revealed paving stones in secondary use approximately 0.6 m below the modern street level (fig. 1.22; 1977: 32; Chen, Margalit, and Solar 1979: 243–44). The slabs measure about 1 m × 2 m and are 0.5 m thick. The fills underneath the slabs yielded Late Roman and Early Byzantine pottery, as well as a coin from the early 5th century c.e. The paving stones that were removed were replaced in the modern street level (fig. 13).

Discussion The streets discussed above may be divided into three main types and three time-frames: 1. Streets paved with large, thick slabs, some in secondary use, dated to the Late Roman and Early Byzantine periods. They were found in Ha-Gai Street (nos. 13–19), Lions Gate Street (20), Street of the Chain (21), and the Street of the Christians (22).

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2. Streets paved with thinner and smaller slabs than those of Category 1. The street measures 5.4 m in width, and the slabs were not laid in a uniform orientation but in accord with the topography. I believe that the similarity between the streets’ appearance, construction style, and materials, as well as their dating to the Late Roman and Byzantine periods, points to their part in the building campaign that expanded the city southward in the 4th and 5th centuries. This street-type was found mainly on Mt. Zion (nos. 1–7) and in the southern Tyropoeon Valley (8). 3. Streets paved with slabs similar to those of Category 2, during the height of the city’s expansion under the emperor Justinian in the 6th century. This street-type is found in the southern part of the Cardo (no. 11) and the Hurva Synagogue (12)—both following a fixed orientation and not topography—and to the east of the Zion Gate, adjacent to the Mamluk city wall (10). Examples of paving stones in secondary use are seen in the central and southern parts of Ha-Gai Street. Their non-uniform size and orientation to the street axis indicate that they were installed during the Byzantine period (Hamilton 1933: 39; Ben-Dov 1982: 229; Baruch and Reich 2004: 157–58; Barbé and Deadle 2006: 23*). Roman-period colonnaded streets in Palestine—such as at Sepphoris (Weiss 2006: 23), Gadara (Weber 2002: 148–51, pl. 14), Gerasa (Parapetti 1983–84: 44–45), and other places (Segal 1995: 16–17)—feature large, thick paving stones of high quality that have remained virtually unbroken and unworn over their six centuries or more of use. The paving stones at these sites were laid diagonally to the street axis. It is thus surprising that so many repairs were undertaken specifically in Jerusalem—and during the course of a relatively short time period (Baruch and Reich 2004: 151, 157–58). Moreover, the orientation of the paving stones in Jerusalem indicates that these were not typical Roman streets: while the paving stones in the above-mentioned sites were laid at a 45-degree angle, those in the southern part of the secondary Cardo were laid either perpendicularly or in no fixed orientation. One significant factor that helps date the southern part of the Cardo is the Byzantine-period pottery found in the fills underneath the paving stones (Ben-Dov 1982: 229; Barbé and Deadle 2006: 24*). Whether there was a Roman-period street that connected the area south of the Temple Mount to the northern part of the city and that passed through the southern part of Ha-Gai Street (Eliav 1999: 101–17), from where the paving stones themselves came, and why they were dismantled, are questions that have no definitive answers. Apart from the construction of churches and monasteries, the most prominent urban process of Byzantine-period Jerusalem was the paving of streets, especially in the southern part of the city. The construction—according to Weksler-Bdolah, in the early 5th century (2003: 112–13)—of the new city wall that also encompassed Mt. Zion required the builders to pave a new road system that would lead from the city center to Mt. Zion and the City of David, as well as through the new gates of the southern city wall. This date is accepted also for the paving of the streets on Mt. Zion.

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This proposal is supported by Street 2, which ascends from Gate N in the southwestern part of Mt. Zion, turns to the northeast and, after a few dozen meters, turns north. Were we to accept Germer-Durand’s reconstruction, the road would take on a different significance. The street is oriented north–south, with a slight northeastern deviation. According to the plan, if it were to progress northward, the street would cross the Old City wall seen today at a point some 120 m east of the Zion Gate. Were we to follow the presumed route of the western Cardo southward, the two streets would eventually merge into one (Tsafrir 1975: 260; Broshi 1977: 234). Furthermore, Street 2c is supposedly also part of this street. Had it continued southward, it would have intersected, or possibly merged, with the street exposed by Bliss and Dickie between Point S and Gate N (Streets 2a and 2b). In fact, the latter may well be part of Street 2c after it had deviated from its clear southern course to the southeast (Tsafrir 1975: 260). I propose that the street was paved during the 5th century, as is the case for the other streets on Mt. Zion, and continued northward along the route of the southern part of the Cardo, following the area’s topography, until it reached the Roman-period Cardo in the northern part of the city, in the area of the Transverse Valley. With the construction of the Nea Church in the sixth century, the street was dismantled and the southern extension of the Cardo—a wide colonnaded thoroughfare—was paved in its place, only at a lower level (Tsafrir 2005: 20–23). The street in the Hurva Synagogue (no. 12) is another example of a Justinianperiod street whose level was lowered. This was a street that branched out from the Cardo and ascended eastward to the area of the synagogue, in the center of today’s Jewish Quarter. Its paving stones are similar to those of the Cardo, located several meters away. An examination of each street’s height has revealed an interesting detail. The bedrock in the western side of the Hurva excavation area is some 3.5 m higher than that of the Cardo, leading to the conclusion that, along the Cardo’s route in this area, bedrock was lowered from both sides and not just from the west, as had been previously believed. Over the years, the topic of the urban layout of Late Roman- and Byzantine-period Jerusalem has generated much debate. One can only hope that further excavations will take place—such as the one currently underway along Ha-Gai Street—and thus help to resolve the many unanswered questions.

References Abu-Riya, R. 1991 Jerusalem, the Street of the Chain (A). Hadashot Arkheologiyot: Excavations and Surveys in Israel 10: 134–35. Avigad, N. 1983 Discovering Jerusalem. Nashville: Thomas Nelson. Avni, G., and Reem, A. 1999 Jerusalem, Shuq ha-Qazzavim. Hadashot Arkheologiyot: Excavations and Surveys in Israel 110: 60–61.

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Bahat, D. 1991 Topography and Archaeology. Pp. 68–134 in The History of Jerusalem: Crusaders and Ayyubids (1099–1250), ed J. Prawer and H. Ben-Shammai. Jerusalem: Yad Ben-Zvi. [Hebrew] Bar, D. 2001 Aelia Capitolina, Main Street Layout: Where Was the Main Cardo of the City? Pp. 159–68 in vol. 7 of New Studies on Jerusalem, ed. A. Faust and E. Baruch. RamatGan: The Ingeborg Rennert Center for Jerusalem Studies. [Hebrew] Barbé, H. H., and Deadle, T. 2006 Jerusalem—Ohel Yizhaq. Pp. 19*–29* in vol. 11 of New Studies on Jerusalem, ed. E. Baruch, Z. Greenhut, and A. Faust. Ramat-Gan: The Ingeborg Rennert Center for Jerusalem Studies. Baruch, Y., and Reich, R. 1999 Renewed Excavations in the Umayyad Building III. Pp. 128–40 in vol. 5 of New Studies on Jerusalem, ed. A. Faust and E. Baruch. Ramat-Gan: The Ingeborg Rennert Center for Jerusalem Studies. [Hebrew] 2003 Some Notes on the Eastern Cardo of Jerusalem. Pp. 147–60 in vol. 9 of New Studies on Jerusalem, ed. E. Baruch, U. Leibner, and A. Faust. Ramat-Gan: The Ingeborg Rennert Center for Jerusalem Studies. [Hebrew] Ben-Dov, M. 1985 In the Shadow of the Temple: The Discovery of Ancient Jerusalem. Jerusalem: Keter. 1987 The Mediaeval “Tanners Gate” and the “Moors’ Gate” in Ottoman Times. Qadmoniot 20 (79–80): 115–19. [Hebrew] Bliss, F. J. 1896 Excavations at Jerusalem (9th Report). PEFQSt: 208–13. Bliss, F. J., and Dickie, A. C. 1898 Excavations in Jerusalem 1894–1897. London: Palestine Exploration Fund. Broshi, M. 1972 Excavations at the House of Caiaphas on Mount Zion. Qadmoniot 5 (19–20): 104– 7. [Hebrew] 1976 Excavations on Mount Zion, 1971–1972. Israel Exploration Journal 26: 86–87. 1977 Standards of Street Widths in the Roman–Byzantine Period. Israel Exploration Journal 27: 232–35. Chen, D., Margalit, S., and Solar, G. 1979 Jerusalem, Christian Quarter, 1977. Israel Exploration Journal 29: 243–44. Crowfoot, J. W. 1929 Excavations in the Ophel, 1928. Preliminary Report to December 8. PEFQSt: 9–16. Crowfoot, J. W., and Fitzgerald, G. M. 1929 Excavations in the Tyropoeon Valley. Annual of the Palestine Exploration Fund 5: 41–43. Diez, F. 1997 Jerusalem, Church of St. Peter in Gallicantu. Hadashot Arkheologiyot, Excavations and Surveys in Israel 107: 88–89. [Hebrew] Eliav, Y. Z. 1998 A Mount without a Temple: The Temple Mount from 70 c.e. to the Mid-5th Century. Reality and Idea. Ph.D. dissertation, The Hebrew University of Jerusalem. [Hebrew] Germer-Durand, J. 1914a La Maison de Caïphe et l’Eglise St. Pierre à Jérusalem. Revue Biblique 11: 244–45. 1914b Maison de Caïphe. Paris: n.p. Gershuny, L. 1991 Jerusalem, Street of the Chain (B). Excavations and Surveys in Israel 10: 135–36.

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Geva, H. 1993 The New Encyclopedia of Archaeological Excavations in the Holy Land, s.v. “Jerusalem.” Geva, H., and Gutfeld, O. 2003 Excavations at the Hurvah Synagogue in the Jewish Quarter, Old City Jerusalem. Pp. 29–30 in vol. 9. of New Studies on Jerusalem, ed. E. Baruch, U. Libner, and A. Faust. Ramat-Gan: The Ingeborg Rennert Center for Jerusalem Studies [Hebrew]. 2004 The Jewish Quarter of the Old City of Jerusalem, 2003. Israel Exploration Journal 54: 239–46. Gutfeld, O. Forthcoming  Jewish Quarter Excavations in the Old City of Jerusalem Conducted by Nahman Avigad, 1969–1982, Vol. V: The Cardo and the Nea Church, Final Report. Jerusalem. Hamilton, R. W. 1932 Street Levels in the Tyropoeon Valley. Quarterly of the Department of Antiquities of Palestine 1: 105–11. 1933 Jerusalem: Ancient Street Levels in the Tyropoeon Valley. Quarterly of the Department of Antiquities of Palestine 2: 34–40. Hess, O. and Eisenberg, E. 1977 Jerusalem, Ha-Gai Street. Hadashot Arkheologiyot, Excavations and Surveys in Israel 63–64: 48. [Hebrew] Johns, C. N. 1932 Jerusalem: Ancient Street Levels in the Tyropoeon Valley within the Walls. Quarterly of the Department of Antiquities of Palestine 1: 97–100. 1948 Discoveries in Palestine since 1939. Palestine Exploration Quarterly 80: 81–101. Kenyon, K. M. 1974 Digging up Jerusalem. London: Benn. Kloner, A., and Bar-Nathan, R. 2007 The Eastern Cardo of Aelia Capitolina. Eretz-Israel 28: 193–205. [Hebrew; English summary, p. 16*] Kogan-Zehavi, E. 1997a Jerusalem, Hashalshelet Street, 1992 Season. Hadashot Arkheologiyot, Excavations and Surveys in Israel 16: 104. 1997b Jerusalem, Hashalshelet Street, 1993 Season. Hadashot Arkheologiyot, Excavations and Surveys in Israel 16: 104–6. Macalister, R. A. S., and Duncan, J. G. 1926 The Excavations on the Hill of the Ophel, Jerusalem 1923–1925. Annual of the Palestine Exploration Fund: 63. Magness, J. 1993 Jerusalem Ceramic Chronology: circa 200–800 c.e. Journal for the Study of the Old Testament/American Schools of Oriental Research Monograph Series 9. Sheffield: Sheffield Academic Press. Margalit, S. 1977 Christians’ Street. Hadashot Arkheologiyot, Excavations and Surveys in Israel 61–62: 32. [Hebrew] Parapetti, R. 1983–84  Architectural and Urban Space in Roman Gerasa. Mesopotamia 18–19: 37–84. Pixner, B., Chen, D., and Margalit, S. 1989 Mount Zion: The ‘Gate of the Essenes’ Re-excavated. Zeitschrift des Deutschen Palästina-Vereins 105: 85–95. Reich, R. 1987 Four Notes on Jerusalem. Israel Exploration Journal 37: 158–67.

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Reich, R., and Shukron, E. 2006 The Discovery of the Second Temple Period Plaza and Paved Street adjacent to the Siloam Pool. Pp. 59–69 in vol. 1 of City of David, Studies of Ancient Jerusalem. Jerusalem. [Hebrew] Schick, C. 1894 Excavations by the Augustinian Brethren on Mount Zion. PEFQSt: 17–18. Segal, A. 1995 Monumental Architecture in Roman Palestine and the Eastern Provinces of the Roman Empire. Haifa: Haifa University Press. Tsafrir, Y. 1976 Zion—The Southwestern Hill of Jerusalem and its Place in the Urban Development of the City in the Byzantine Period. Ph.D. dissertation, the Hebrew University of Jerusalem. [Hebrew] 1999a The Topography and Archaeology of Aelia Capitolina. Pp. 115–16 in The History of Jerusalem: The Roman and Byzantine Periods (70–638), ed. Y. Tsafrir and S. Safrai. Jerusalem: Yad Ben-Zvi. [Hebrew] 1999b The Topography and Archaeology of Jerusalem in the Byzantine Period. Pp. 281– 351 in The History of Jerusalem: The Roman and Byzantine Periods (70–638), ed. Y. Tsafrir and S. Safrai. Jerusalem: Yad Ben-Zvi. [Hebrew] 2005 Procopius on the Nea Church, the Cardo, and ‘The Finger of Og’ in Jerusalem. Cathedra 115: 5–30. [Hebrew] Vincent, L. H., and Abel, F. M. 1914–26  Jérusalem: Recherches de topographie, d’archéologie et d’histoire II: Jérusalem nouvelle. Paris: Victor Lecoffre. Weber, T. M. 2002 Gadara, Umm Qes I: Gadara Decapolitana. Wiesbaden: Harrassowitz. Weiss, Z. 2006 Tiberias and Sepphoris in the First Century c.e.: Urban Topography and Herod Antipas’ Building Projects in the Galilee. Cathedra 120: 11–32. [Hebrew] Weksler-Bdolah, S. 2003 Fortifications of Jerusalem in the Late Roman and Byzantine Periods (3rd/4th to the 8th Centuries c.e.). M.A. Thesis, The Hebrew University of Jerusalem. 2007 Reconsidering the Byzantine-period City Wall of Jerusalem. Pp. 88–101 in EretzIsrael: Archaeological, Historical and Geographical Studies 28. Jerusalem: Israel Exploration Society. [Hebrew] Weksler-Bdolah, S.; Onn, A.; Ouahnouna, B.; and Kisilevitz, S. 2009 Jerusalem, The Western Wall Plaza Excavations, 2005–2009 Preliminary Report. HA (e.j.): http://www.hadashot-esi.org.il/report_detail_eng.asp?id=1219&mag_id=115 Wilkinson, J. 1975 The Streets of Jerusalem. Levant 7: 118–36.

Epigraphic Finds Reveal New Chapters in the History of the Church of the Holy Sepulchre in the 6th Century Leah Di Segni

Hebrew University of Jerusalem

Introduction From 1960 to 1969, Father V. Corbo carried out extensive excavations in the Church of the Holy Sepulchre, the results of which initially appeared in La Terra Santa and in Liber Annuus of the Studium Biblicum Franciscanum, and later in a comprehensive report published in 1982 (Corbo 1961a, 1961b; 1961–62; 1962; 1963–64; 1964–65; 1969; 1982). Another presentation of the early church and its architectural history was published by one of the architects involved in the restoration work, C. Coüasnon (1974). 1 Several inscribed objects were found in the course of the excavations, most of them fragmentary, which Corbo published in the form of photographs or drawings in his book, without trying to decipher them. As far as I know, these finds never attracted the attention of epigraphists, even after their publication. A selection of these objects will be analyzed here. Their historical significance goes far beyond their modest size. During the 11th-century restoration of the church by the Byzantine emperor Constantine Monomachos, the northern and southern apses of the Anastasis were paved with small marble slabs creating a geometric design. Some of the slabs were in secondary use, as is indicated by the fact that at least three of them bore remnants of Greek inscriptions on the back. It seems reasonable to suppose that these marbles may have originated in the decoration of the church prior to its restoration. Two pieces reused in the southern apse of the rotunda were recognized by the excavator as probably belonging to the same inscription, based on the color of the marble as well as the shape and size of the letters (Corbo 1982: 147, photos 155, 156). A third fragment was also published but not deciphered by Corbo (photo 157). Its badly worn inscribed surface shows letters similar to those of the other fragments, but Corbo gives no information as to their size. It may have been part of the same inscription, though some doubt remains. 2 1.  Coüasnon’s reconstruction differs in several details from Corbo’s: the latter responded with a point-by-point criticism of Coüasnon’s views (Corbo 1979). Some additional items were discussed by Corbo in a later paper (Corbo 1988). 2.  The first two fragments were recently located in the Church of the Holy Sepulchre, embedded in walls in the bell tower and in the Chapel of Adam. They were placed there a few years ago, during conservation work carried out by the Greek Orthodox Patriarchy. The discovery was due to our assistants in the project of the Corpus Inscriptionum Iudaeae Palaestinae, Nili and Abraham

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The Fragments and Their Interpretation Fragment A is 31.3 cm long and 25 cm wide, broken on all sides, and bears three lines of script as well as the upper extremity of some letters of a fourth line. The characters are 7 cm high in the first line and 5.5–6 cm in the second and third lines. Fragment B is 16 cm long, 28.7 cm wide, also broken on all sides, and bears the remains of five lines of script; the letters are ca. 6 cm high. The Byzantine character of the script can be immediately recognized based on the type of abbreviations used: the two nomina sacra (one fragmentary) in the first line of fragment A, both marked with a horizontal stroke, and the truncation of a word by means of a short diagonal stroke (across the kappa in the third line). The shape of the letters points to a 6th-century date. In spite of their broken condition, the two fragments can be easily recognized as part of a Justinianian inscription, in all likelihood an edict. The key word that enables us to draw this conclusion is the almost complete epithet ᾽Αλαμανι[κός in line 2 of fragment A. Although the two fragments do not adjoin one another, the preserved letters allow us to establish their relative position and to reconstruct the first lines of the inscription. It is universally known that Roman emperors adopted triumphal names that commemorated their victories over barbarian peoples. This custom disappeared in the 4th century, apart from a brief revival under Julian. It is less well known that in 533, on the eve of the campaigns launched by Justinian and aimed at recovering the western part of the Empire, the emperor adopted eight triumphal epithets, some referring to past victories, others to victories still ahead. Interestingly, in his Life of Sabas, Cyril of Scythopolis reports that the holy man Sabas, on his visit to Justinian’s court in 531, prophesied to the emperor his future conquest of “Africa, Rome, and the rest of Honorius’ empire” (Vita Sabae 72, ed. Schwartz 1939: 175– 76). It is easy to guess how this anecdote came into being, because the people of Palestine saw the triumphal epithets heading the imperial decrees years before the conquest had actually taken place. The complete list included Alamanicus (always in the first place), Gothicus, Francicus, Germanicus, Anticus, Alanicus, Vandalicus, and Africus, 3 all of which Justinian added to the titles already borne by Anastasius and other earlier emperors: Pius, Felix, victorious, glorious, winner of trophies, forever Augustus. The use of the full titulature became the rule in the documents of the imperial chancellery. The opening formula: “In the name of our lord Jesus Christ our God” also came into use at Gracier and Naomi Schneider, who inspected the church under the guidance of Dr. Theo Mitropoulos, the architect in charge of restoration works in the Holy Sepulchre. In spite of Dr. Mitropoulos’ invaluable help and of the assistants’ efforts, the third fragment could not be located; therefore, it is impossible, for the moment, to verify any conjecture about its origin. 3.  Germans, Alans, and Alamans were already serving in the Roman army in the 4th century, but some of their tribes were still raiding the Roman provinces: Alamans together with Franks descended into Italy in 553 and were defeated in 554 and finally expelled only in 561. The Antae, who had invaded Thracia under Justin I, were defeated by Justinian’s cousin Germanus, then magister militum per Thraciam; later Justinian enrolled them in his army ( Jones 1986: 268, 272). Vandals and other populations of Africa, Goths in Italy, Ostrogoths in Gaul, and Visigoths in Spain were conquered in the campaign led by Belisarius and other generals in the west between 533 and 554 ( Jone 1986: 273–78, 288–93).

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the same time. This formula, and the list of titles that accompanied the name of the emperor were not obligatory except in official documents issued by the chancellery; yet, they also appear in several inscriptions, all except one edicts carved on stone (Rösch 1978: 167–68; Amelotti 1985: 102–3; Feissel 1992: 393–94 ). The surviving letters on our two fragments are sufficient to establish that they belong to just such an edict. Once the nature of this inscription is recognized, it is easy to show that, though the two fragments cannot be physically joined together, nevertheless, their position in relation to one another can be established with certainty. Fragment A contains part of lines 1–3 of the text, and fragment B part of lines 3–7; the tips of the letters visible along the lower edge of fragment A are part of the continuation of the first line of fragment B (line 4 of the entire text). The surviving letters on fragment A enable us to evaluate the approximate number of letters in each line and thus to reconstruct the approximate length of the lines. Line 1, which was composed of larger letters, contained 38 characters, and lines 2–5 contained 40–45 characters each. Considering the actual length of the fragment and the number of letters it accommodates, we can surmise that the total original length of the slab was roughly between four and four and a half times longer than fragment A: perhaps 5 Byzantine feet (ca. 155 cm). Because fragment A shows the first and the last triumphal epithet, with enough space for perhaps five additional epithets in between, it seems that the inscription presented 6 or 7 out of 8 epithets. Here is a tentative reconstruction of the text: 4 Fragment B

Fragment A

– – – ỌΘ̣ ỊḲ⸈Ị – – – – – – HTHCEṆ – – – – ẠΓΙW⸆EKΛ̣ – – – – WCTHMϵ – – – – ẠṆC̣ PWỊ – –

– – ϒ TOϒ ΘϒHMẈ – – – – OCAΛAMANIỊ – – – – NΔAΛIK̩ EϒCE – – – – ẸỊC̣ ẸḄẠC̣ Ṭ

[+᾽Εν ὀνόματι τοῦ δεσπότου ἡμῶν Ἰ(ησο)ῦ Χ(ριστο)]ῦ τοῦ θ(εο)ῦ ἡμῶ[ν] [Αὐτοκράτωρ Καίσαρ Φλ(αούιος) Ἰουστινιαν]ὸς Ἀλαμανι[κ(ὸς) Ἀν-] [τικ(ὸς) Γ]oθικ(ὸς) Φ[ραγκικ(ὸς) Γερμανικ(ὸς) Ἀλανικ(ὸς) Οὐα]νδαλικ(ὸς) εὐσε[βὴς] 4 [νικ]ητής ἔν[δοξος τροποῦχος ἀ]εισεβαστ[ὸς Αὐγ(οῦστ(ος)] [Ταῖς] ἁγιωτ(άταις) ἐκλ[ησίαις τῆς ὀρθοδόξου πίστεως] [? Κωνσταντινοπόλε]ως με[γάλῃ ἐκλησίᾳ ? – – – – – – – ] [– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – ] 4.  I have revised my former reading of lines 2–4 following a suggestion of my learned friend and colleague, Denis Feissel. However, he preferred to keep the traditional order of the epithets and restored Ἀλαμανι[κ(ὸς) | [Γο]θικ(ος) Φ[ρανκικ(ὸς) Γερμανικ(ὸς) Ἀντικ(ὸς) Οὐα]νδαλικ(ὸς); but this reading would compel us to assume that the left margin of the inscription was uneven, since the first eta of νικητής is aligned with the clearly discernible bottom of the omicron of Γοθικὸς. Both the left and the right margin of the inscription are better aligned by the insertion of Ἀν|τικ(ὸς). For other important suggestions offered by Feissel, see the Appendix.

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Fig. 1.  Fragment A (A. Gracier) [In the name of our lord Jesus Christ] our God, [Emperor Caesar Flavius Iustinian]us, Alamani[cus, Anticus, G]othicus, F[rancicus, Germanicus, Alanicus, Va]ndalicus, Pi[us, vict]orious, glo[rious, winner of trophies,] forever Augustus, to the] most holy churches [of the orthodox faith – – – –] to the Great [Church of Constantinople (?) – – – – – – – –]

Since the length of the lines and the sequence of the epithets are fairly certain, we can exclude the possibility that the inscription refers not to the emperor Justinian but rather to one of his successors whose name ended with ος (which excludes Phocas): Justin II, Tiberius, Mauricius, or Heraclius (Φλάουιος Ἰοθστῖνος, Φλάουιος Τιβέριος Κωνσταντῖνος, Φλάουιος Μαυρίκιος Τιβέριος, Φλάουιος Ἡράκλειος). Not only do their names fit less well at the beginning of line 2, but these emperors, who all maintained the triumphal titulature adopted by Justinian, added new epithets between their name and the first triumphal appellation, all of which are absent from our inscription (Amelotti 1985: 120–21). Justinian’s full titulature included the eight triumphal epithets but not all of them appear in all the known epigraphic examples. 5 In fact, the full series appears only in one case, CIG 8636 from Trebizond, which is also the only case in which the official opening appears not in an edict on stone but in a building inscription. 6 In our case, there appears to be an address “to the most holy church” or “churches” in line 5, 7 which implies that the fragments belonged to an edict, which in all likelihood was displayed to the public in the Church of the Holy Sepulchre itself. Which edict could this be? The first that comes to mind in connection with the Holy Sepulchre is the Novella XL, a special edict sent on May 18, 535 by Justinian to Peter, patriarch of Jerusalem, exempting the Anastasis from the general prohibition of alienation of ecclesiastical property and granting it permission to sell buildings, 5. For example, seven epithets appear in an inscription from Cyprus in which Alanicus is omitted (Mitford 1950: 128–32) and six in IK Ephesos 1353, in which Francicus and Anticus are omitted. 6.  See Feissel 1992: 383–92 for a full treatment of this inscription, now lost. 7. The rest of the line is restored hypothetically. For the address πάσαις ταῖς ἐκλησίαις τῆς ὀρθοδόξου πίστεως, compare IK Ephesos 1353.

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Fig. 2.  Fragment B (A. Gracier)

though not landed property. However, apart from the fact that there would have been no reason to display this edict in the church, the Novella XL was addressed personally to Peter, while line 5 of our inscription, which contains the reference to the addressee, mentions the “most holy church” or “churches.” Therefore, it is unlikely that our inscription contained this Novella. A more likely candidate is the edict that Justinian addressed to all the churches on March 15, 533, laying down the orthodox creed against the heresies of Nestorius and Eutyches. 8 The full text of this edict is preserved in the Justinian Code and in the Chronicon Paschale (CJ I, 1, 6; ed. Dindorf 1832: 630–33). In the former, the edict lacks the official heading with the imperial titulature (quite a normal feature of the Code) and is addressed to the citizens of Constantinople; in the latter, the titulature is complete except for the triumphal epithets, and the edict is addressed to all the subjects of the empire (πολίταις ἡμετέροις). The chronicler adds the information that the edict was published in Constantinople and sent to Rome, Jerusalem, Antioch, Alexandria, 8.  In fact, the creed was not “orthodox” in the Chalcedonian sense, for it contained the theopaschite formula and was meant to facilitate a compromise with the Monophysites. For the circumstances of its publication see Perrone 1980: 189–90.

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Thessalonica, and Ephesus and that all the bishops received a copy of the edict and displayed it (προέθηκαν) in the churches. One wonders if the address extended to specification of single churches where the edict was supposed to be displayed—at least in the case of Constantinople, the original place of its promulgation. Line 6 of our inscription may contain a reference to the “Great Church” in that city, namely, St. Sophia 9 (and perhaps to Rome in line 7?). If the third fragment mentioned above belonged to the same inscription, it would strengthen both the supposition that the inscription contained a definition of the faith and the hypothesis that some specific churches were mentioned; for this fragment contains the terms σπουδῇ (by whose care the text was to be set up), ὅροι, ‘definitions of the faith,’ the verb ‘to set up’ or ‘display’ (τίθημι), and the name of the Church of the Holy Sepulchre in the dative, Μαρτυρί⟨ῳ⟩. Although there is no certainty that the third fragment (Corbo 1982: photo 157) belonged to the same inscription, its text is presented here below: ––––––– – – EWCCΠΟϒΔΗ - – – C̣ OPOϒCTOϒCTAICΛEỊ – – – – WTWMAPTϒPIOTEΘẸ – ––––––– – – εως σπουδῇ – – – – ς ὅροθς τοὺς ταῖς λε – – – [– ἐν τούτ]ῳ τῷ μαρτυρίοι τεθε[ῖσθαι – – ] A possible reading of line 2 might be τούτους τοὺ]ς ὅρους τοὺς ταῖς λε[γομέναις ἁγιωτάταις ἐκλησίαις καταπεμφθέντας]. The fragment may be part of the last lines of the edict and contain a disposition “that by the care of . . . these definitions of the faith that have been sent to the above-mentioned most holy churches to be displayed in this Martyrium. . . .” In view of the explicit statement in the Chronicon Paschale, it is tempting to identify our inscription with Justinian’s edict of 533. If this is indeed the case, this find would represent the earliest epigraphic example of the new imperial titulature, as well as the new opening formula, adopted by Justinian in 533. An argument against accepting this solution is the fact that no case of triumphal titulature is known before November 533; indeed, the imperial titulature of the edict, as recorded in the Chronicon Paschale, does not include the triumphal epithets. This, however, is not the only decree in matters of faith sent by Justinian to the Church of Jerusalem: at least two others are known. One is the edict against Origenism, which was published in Jerusalem in February 543, as we learn from Cyril of Scythopolis (Vita Sabae 85–86, ed. Schwartz 1939: 191–92; full text in Acta Conciliorum Oecumenicorum III, ed. Schwartz 1940: 189–214; see Perrone 1980: 207–8); another is the decree condemning the Tria Capitula, published in ca. 544 (Cyril of Scythopolis, Vita 9.  Constantinople is not the only metropolis that had a “Great Church;” the main church of Antioch was also so surnamed. But the ending -εως before τῇ με[γάλῃ?], and the position of this entry, seemingly at the head of the list, makes Κωνταντινοπόλ]εως a better guess.

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Fig. 3.  Breakup of the monograms (R. Bonfil)

Sabae 87, ed. Schwartz 1939: 194; Stein and Palanque 1968: 632–38; Perrone 1980: 209–10).

The Monogrammed Capitals Another unknown chapter in the history of the Church of the Holy Sepulchre is revealed by another epigraphic find that Corbo left unexplained. During Constantine Monomachos’ restoration, an apse was created in the eastern part of the rotunda; during the Crusader restoration, the apse disappeared and was superseded by the chorus dominorum (today the Catholicon). A tall arch connected the rotunda to the apse, and today the arch connects the rotunda to the Catholicon. Two heartshaped columns surmounted by four capitals support the arch; they were put together using earlier plinths, capitals, and drums of various periods (Corbo 1982: Table 4, columns 68 and 69, and Table 20). Above those elements, four capitals of veined white marble, 65 cm high, were in secondary use as cushions. 10 In all four, each face bore a Greek monogram within a round medallion, 27.5 cm in diameter on the outside, 23 cm on the inside. All four capitals had the same four monograms (a different monogram on each face), although some of them were damaged by fire 10.  A “cushion” or “coussinet” ( pulvino in Corbo’s Italian text) is a stone placed upon the impost of a pier for receiving the first stone of an arch.

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and only six in all are preserved to this day. At the time of Corbo’s excavations in the 1960s, they were removed and replaced by replicas. 11 Corbo dated the four capitals/cushions to the 6th century, Coüasnon to Justinian’s reign. However, based on the monograms—which neither scholar was able to decipher—a precise date can be determined. In the first monogram (a), Bieberstein and Bloedhorn (1994: II, 210) suggested reading the name ΜΑΚΑΡΙΟΥ, but failed to connect it with any historical figure who bore this name. Let us examine it more carefully, keeping in mind the rules that apply to the composition of monograms: (1) each character, even if it appears twice or three times in the name, is represented only once in the monogram, and (2) each of the lines that form the monogram can be used as part of different letters. Now we can see that the monogram reads ΜΑΚΑΡΙΟΥ — “Of Mauricius,” in the genitive as is always the case in monograms, with the ligature of omicron and hypsilon appearing on top, also a typical feature of Byzantine monograms. Could this Mauricius be the emperor who occupied the throne of Byzantium from 582 until he was murdered by the usurper Phocas in 602? We know that, on his accession to the throne, Mauricius married Constantina, the daughter of his predecessor Tiberius; 12 in the second monogram we can read KWNCTANTINHC. Constantina bore Mauricius nine children: six sons—Theodosius, Tiberius, Petrus, Paulus, Iustinus, Iustinianus—and three daughters—Anastasia, Theoctiste, and Cleopatra. In the last two monograms, the names ΘΕΟΔΟCΙΟΥ and ΤΙΒΕΡΙΟΥ are featured. The identification is therefore certain, and the four columns to which these capitals belonged—at least four, but there may have been more whose capitals have vanished—were clearly donated by the emperor and his family. As to their date, Mauricius’ first son, Theodosius, was born in 585; 13 therefore, his second son, Tiberius, could not have been born before 586. 14 Alternatively, ΤΙΒΕΡΙΟΥ may refer to Mauricius himself, whose full name was Flavius Mauricius Tiberius: in this case, the addition of Theodosius’ name to those of the imperial couple may date the monogrammed capitals after 590, when Theodosius was proclaimed Augustus and became co-emperor with his father. Mauricius and his sons were killed by order of Phocas in November 602; therefore, the monogrammed capitals cannot be dated before 586 (or 590) or after 602. The size of the capitals indicates that the columns were not a decorative element but had a structural function. They attest to a phase of renovation or restructuring in the Church of the Holy Sepulchre of which no memory is preserved in the 11.  Monograms a–b were copied from the cushion of the northernmost column (northern column of group 68), c and d from the two columns of group 69, the southern heart-shaped column: Corbo 1969: 81, fig. 11 (Monogram d); Coüasnon 1974: 55–56 Table 24b (Monogram a); Corbo 1982: 151, Table 21 (Monograms a–c), photos 41 (Monogram a), 42 (Monogram c), 43 (Monogram d). Two capitals are in the courtyard of the Flagellation Convent, the other two in the courtyard of the Armenian Museum. 12.  The former name of the Empress was Augusta, and she was renamed Aelia Constantina on her betrothal to Mauricius: Martindale 1992: 855–60 (Flavius Mauricius Tiberius 4); 337–39 (Constantina). 13.  This date is preferable to 583: Martindale 1992: 1293–94 (Theodosius 13). 14.  Martindale 1992: 1326 (Tiberius 3).

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written sources. But archaeologists do indeed discern building stages that cannot be ascribed to the Costantinian church or to its known reincarnations: the restoration by Modestus after the damage caused by the Persian invasion in 614, and the reconstruction by Constantine Monomachus in 1048. It is perhaps necessary to reconsider the traditional view that the Constantinian buildings underwent no significant changes until their destruction by Caliph Hakim in 1009.

Appendix Since this lecture was delivered and the paper submitted, I have had second thoughts with regard to the interpretation of the fragmentary edict. My esteemed friend Denis Feissel, whom I heartily thank for his generous and learned assistance, has suggested that the ὅροι mentioned in the third fragment may be not ‘definitions of the faith’ but ‘borders’ of the right of sanctuary enjoyed by the churches. Several inscriptions attest imperial decisions of Justinian and of other Byzantine emperors pertaining to ὅροι ἀσυλίας (Amelotti 1985: 131-35), and recently three more have come to my knowledge, all found in Israel. In light of these new discoveries, I tend now to view the three fragments from the Church of the Holy Sepulchre as part of a rescript confirming the right of sanctuary of a church, possibly dedicated to St. Stephen (following Feissel’s suggestion, who reads the word πρ]ωτωμάρτυρι, ‘to the Protomartyr,’ in the third fragment). If this is correct, the original inscription must have been displayed not in the Holy Sepulchre but in the basilica of St. Stephen outside the Damascus Gate, which had been damaged and partly dismantled, probably at the time of the Persian conquest of Jerusalem (Milik 1960: 566–67, no. 45). I shall discuss this alternative interpretation of the fragments together with the above-mentioned asylia inscription in a forthcoming article.

References Primary Sources Acta Conciliorum Oecumenicorum III — see Schwartz, E. 1940. Chronicon Paschale — see Dindorf, L. 1832. CJ — see Krueger, P. 1877 Cyril of Scythopolis , Vita Sabae — see Schwartz, E. 1939. IK Ephesos = Inschriften griechischer Städte aus Kleinasien, vols. 11–17: Die Inschriften von Ephesos. 1979–84. Bonn: Habelt.

Secondary Sources Amelotti, M. 1985 Le costituzioni giustinianee nelle epigrafi. Pp. 87–142 in M. Amelotti and L. Migliardi Zingale, Le costituzioni giustinianee nei papiri e nelle epigrafi (Legum Iustiniani Imperatoris Vocabularium. Subsidia I). Milano: A. Giuffrè. Bieberstein, K., and Bloedhorn, H. 1994 Jerusalem: Grundzüge der Baugeschichte vom Chalkolithikum bis zur Frühzeit der osmanischen Herrschaft, vols. 1–3. Wiesbaden: Reichert. Corbo, V. 1961a A Risultati inaspettati negli scavi eseguiti al Sepulcro. La Terra Santa 37: 132–38.

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1961b Scavi al Sepolcro. Importanti elementi costantiniani ritornati alla luce. La Terra Santa 37: 281–85. 1961–62  Gli edifici della santa Anastasis a Gerusalemme. Liber Annuus 12: 221–316. 1962 Risultato degli ultimi scavi nella basilica del S. Sepolcro: osservazioni preliminary. Gli edifici della “Santa Anastasis.” La Terra Santa 38: 171–81. 1963–64  Nuove scoperte archeologiche nella Basilica del S. Sepolcro. Liber Annuus 14: 293–338. 1964–1965 Scavo della Cappella dell’Invenzione della Croce e nuovi reperti archeologici nella Basilica del S. Sepolcro a Gerusalemme (1965). Liber Annuus 15: 318–66 1969 La basilica del S. Sepolcro a Gerusalemme. Rassegna archeologica delle strutture degli edifici nel 1969. Liber Annuus 19: 65–144. 1979 Problemi sul Santo Sepolcro di Gerusalemme in una recente pubblicazione. Liber Annuus 29: 279–92. 1982 Il Santo Sepolcro di Gerusalemme. Aspetti archeologici dalle origini al periodo crociato. Studium Biblicum Franciscanum, Collectio Maior 29. Jerusalem: Franciscan Printing Press. 1988 Il Santo Sepolcro di Gerusalemme: Nova et Vetera. Liber Annuus 38: 391–422. Coüasnon, C. 1974 The Church of the Holy Sepulchre in Jerusalem. The Schweich Lectures of the British Academy 1972. London: Oxford University Press. Dindorf, L. ed. 1832 Chronicon Paschale. Corpus Scriptorum Historiae Byzantinae 14–15. Bonn: Weber. Feissel, D. 1992 Notes d’épigraphie chrétienne (VIII). XXIV. Trois inscriptions de Justinien Ier à Trébizonde. BCH 116: 383–92. Jones, A. H. M. 1986 The Later Roman Empire, 286–602. Paperback. Oxford: Basil Blackwell. Krueger, P. ed. 1877 Corpus Iuris Civilis II: Codex Justinianus. Reprinted, Berlin: Weidmann, 1954. Martindale, J. R. 1992 Prosopography of the Later Roman Empire, vol. III. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Milik J.T. 1960 Notes d’épigraphie et de topographie palestiniennes, IX: Sanctuaires chrétiens de Jérusalem à l’époque arabe (VIIe-Xe s.). RB 67: 354–67, 550–93. Mitford, T. B. 1950 New Inscriptions from Early Christian Cyprus. Byzantion 20: 105–75. Perrone, L. 1980 La Chiesa di Palestina e le controversie cristologiche. Brescia: Paideia. Stein, E., and Palanque, J. R. 1968 Histoire du Bas-Empire, vol. II. Amsterdam: Hakkert. Rösch, G. 1978 ΟΝΟΜΑ ΒΑΣΙΛΕΙΑΣ. Byzantina Vindobonensia 10. Vienna: Österreichischen Akademie der Wissenschaften. Schwartz, E. ed. 1939 Kyrillos von Skythopolis: Leben des Sabas. Texte und Untersuchungen zur Geschichte der Altchristlichen Literatur 49 ii: 85–200. Leipzig: Hinrich. 1940 Acta Conciliorum Oecumenicorum, vol. III. Berlin: de Gruyter

The Hinterland of Jerusalem during the Byzantine Period Jon Seligman

Israel Antiquities Authority

Like any city, in any period, a symbiotic relationship existed between Jerusalem and its hinterland. To really understand Jerusalem, it is necessary to understand the dialogue that existed between the city and its region. Good basic personal security during the Byzantine period outside the city walls meant that isolated settlement types could develop without fear of attack, especially by roving bandits and the ever-present nomad. Jerusalem was indeed a prosperous city. Public investment led to population growth, stimulating demand for agricultural goods and in turn to the absorption of more pilgrims, who would spend their money in the city. Demographic estimates place Jerusalem’s population at up to 50,000 (Broshi 1978: 14), along with thousands of other semi-permanent visitors and pilgrims at the city’s zenith. Indeed, Jerusalem at this time, as in the Herodian period, was characterized by a huge religious sector servicing the many cultic institutions of the city, which required an efficient surplus agricultural sector to feed so many unproductive people. The study of the walled city of Jerusalem has always been a magnet for scholars, and their investigations have rightly focused on it since the 19th century. Nonetheless, the necessity of examining the finds outside the city was recognized early on by C. R. Conder, H. H. Kitchener (1883) and C. Warren (1884). Their pioneering Survey of Western Palestine was the first systematic investigation of the country. The importance of a survey carried out prior to modern development and massive landscape changes cannot be overstated, because it provides basic information concerning the very existence of sites. Throughout the period of the British Mandate and the early years of the State of Israel, research continued in and around Jerusalem, but the explosion of information concerning Jerusalem’s environs both coincided with and resulted from the massive development that has taken place over the last 35 years. During this time, numerous excavations and surveys have been carried out in the Jerusalem region, most importantly A. Kloner’s Survey of Jerusalem (2000–2003), which identified some 400 Byzantine sites in the area under investigation. These studies have greatly contributed to our knowledge of the rural framework surrounding what constituted the major city of the region. Surprisingly little effort has been invested in analyzing the settlement and in exploring the economics of the area around Jerusalem. Even though hinterland studies have been en mode for 40 years, and various investigations of this type exist for Palestine at large, no comprehensive work exploring the hinterland during the Byzantine and many other periods has been undertaken. But before I begin to 361

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discuss the subject, a number of studies should be noted that do attempt to tackle this subject or aspects of it. Regional archaeology has been popular in the study of the Mediterranean countries since the 1970s. 1 Work on understanding the relationship between the rural periphery and the city has emanated from Iraq, Syria, and Transjordan. 2 Within the country, surveys are now inevitably conducted around sites during their excavation, a trend started by Y. Portugali (1982) at Tel Jokneam. Relating to the period under discussion here is the pioneering study of the hinterland of Diospolis-Lod that was published by J. J. Schwartz (1991). Even though we have mentioned the lack of synthesis concerning Jerusalem’s hinterland, we should note some exceptions, such as E. Baruch’s (1998) study of the hinterland of Jerusalem in the Herodian period and B. Zissu’s (2001) analysis of specifically Jewish settlement in the Shephela and Judean Hills. On the other hand, we should also be aware of important research that has concentrated on the aspects of that hinterland—on monasteries, tombs, and cemeteries, agricultural installations and agrarian economy, landscape features, ceramic typology, quarrying, and lime-slaking.  3 In studying the environs of Jerusalem, we must also note the written sources— pilgrims’ itineraries, liturgical guides, and hagiographies—that concentrate on the city itself but also describe either the holy sites outside the walls or the routes taken to reach the holy city. Thus, by intent or by accident, crucial data is provided concerning extramural life.

The Administrative Division of Judea and Jerusalem Before examining the physical remains around the city, it is worth taking a moment to consider the political and administrative framework that dictated life in the region. Whether this political division was equivalent to the economic hinterland of the city will require much further research. In describing Uruk in 2nd-millennium b.c.e. Iraq, R. M. Adams and H. J. Nissen (1972: 85) state: “The idea of a region implies a bounded area whose limits are more or less fixed by natural features or enduring bonds of human association.” Thus, the major assumption is that administrative units into which a country was divided through various periods of history remained basically unchanged. This assumption is grounded on the intrinsic conservative nature of administrative functions, officials, and structures and because the administrative units were built around both preexisting geographical and settlement patterns and logical topographic boundaries.

1.  For hinterland studies in the Mediterranean region, see, for example Van Andel and Rummels 1987; Rich and Wallace-Hadrill 1991; Sodini 1993; Barker and Lloyd 1991. 2.  For hinterland studies in Iraq, Syria, and Transjordan, see, for example Tchalenko 1953–58; Adams 1981; Villeneuve 1985; Dauphin 1991/2; Tate 1992; King and Cameron 1994. 3.  For the study of monasteries in the Judean Desert, see Chitty 1966; Hirschfeld 1990, 1995; Patrich 1995.For tombs, see Avni 1997; Kloner and Zissu 2003. For agricultural installations, see Frankel 1999. For landscape archaeology around Jerusalem, see Ron 1966; Gibson and Edelstein 1985; Gibson 1995. For ceramics in Byzantine Jerusalem, see Magness 1993. For stone quarrying and lime production, see Safrai and Sasson 2001.

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Consequently, Judea is divided into geographical lengthwise bands: the Jordan Valley; the hill country as far as the steep valleys in the west; the western edges of the hills with capitals at the base of the hills; the Shephelah; and finally, the coastal plain. Administrative divisions were thus based on a clear geographical reality that continued unchanged through history. Even with political changes and conquest, these basic features remained static. In order to control a conquered country, to raise taxes or an army, any new ruler would have to reorganize the local administration. Clearly, using the existing administrative structure was the quickest way to achieve this. The major description of Judea from this period is contained in Eusebius’ Onomasticon from the fourth century (fig. 1). We know that at this time the following toparchies existed in Judea: Aelia-Jerusalem, Jericho, Emmaus, Diospolis-Lod, Antipatris, Jaffa, and Eleutheropolis-Beth Guvrin. The Onomasticon clearly describes a process of reducing the number of toparchies into larger and more controllable units. This shift should be attributed to the administrative reforms during the reign of Diocletian in the late third century (Safrai 1980: 11, 202). The church structure (Safrai 1980: 29–31) recorded by Eusibius in the fourth century was based heavily on the civil administrative system. Towns, and their territories, were the see of the bishops or episcopate, while in the capital of the provinces was an archbishop or metropolitan. Because the bishops were resident in the toparchic capitals, the borders of their sees usually followed the civil boundaries. Thus, the list of Ecclesiastical Synod participants is extremely useful in providing the list of the boundaries of the civil administration. However, we should be careful, because changes in the civil administration were not always followed by a similar metamorphosis in the ecclesiastical structures, which were even more conservative than the civil ones. Thus, by the fifth century the church boundaries were set in a permanent state that remained basically unchanged till the present day in the Greek Orthodox Church. Additional bishoprics were added in important religious sites that developed at places associated with the events of the Old and New Testament, thus confusing our understanding of the civil administrative structure. Because most of these events took place in Judea and Jerusalem, many of the latter type of sees were located within the area. Beyond its clear religious significance, Jerusalem was also the capital of its own district (fig. 2). Eusebius notes the following settlements as being part of Jerusalem; Maʿale Adommim, Bet Ashan (an unidentified site 15 miles west of Jerusalem), Anathoth, Arath-Heret (near Motsa), Bethel, Bet Horon, Kiryat Yeʾarim, Beeroth, Mitzpa, Michmash, Ramon, Rama, Shalem (unidentified), Kisaleon, Karnyim, Ephraim, Aroeir, Bethlehem, Beit Zur, Bethany, Gabeon, Ephrata, Tekoa, Karnaia, Rama, Gophna. The western border is also not delimited by any clear topographic feature. Kisalon is noted as being inside Jerusalem, while the nearby settlement of Bet Itab is set as part of Elutheropolis. The border therefore passed between the two. Slightly to the north the most westerly site is Kiryat Yeʾarim, with Aialon to its west registered as part of Emmaus. Again, the border would have been set between them. Possibly

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Fig. 1.  Map of the area of Jerusalem based on the Onimasticon of Eusebius (After Notley and Safrai 2005).

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Fig. 2.  The administrative boundaries of Jerusalem and its country district during the Byzantine period.

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Fig. 3.  Map of monastic sites around Jerusalem. (Cartography: L. Barda, IAA)

the steep valleys form the most logical northern topographic limit for Jerusalem, possibly along a northern tributary of Wadi Salman, Wadi ʿEin Arik, or Wadi Dilb. Certainly, the important route through the Bet Horon pass was controlled by Jerusalem, because settlements along its length are included. Those recorded by Eusebius were: Bet Horon, Beeroth, Gibeon, and Karnyim. These were on the ridge to the north of Wadi Salman. Still, the former district of Gophna was probably attached to Aelia, thus taking the border with Neapolis to Arueir some 20 Roman miles (30 km) north of the city (Safrai 1980: 107–9). Jerusalem’s southern border would have taken the border to the small toparchy of Arbo-Hebron, the border set by Bet Zur and Tekoa. Control of the area south of Bethlehem was important, because it ensured control of the water supply from Solomon’s pools at Artas. To the east, most of the wadi springs at Ein Fara and Ein Qelt were under the control of the Jerusalem, together with the villages of Michmas, Ephraim, and Rimmon.

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Thus, the district of Jerusalem covered a large area of 60 km from north to south and 45 km from east to west (Hopkins 1980: 28). While this would have been the area taxed by the city, whether or not this expressed the real hinterland of Jerusalem requires further study.

Monasteries (fig. 3) Of the various settlement forms, monasteries dominated the landscape. They emerge for a number of reasons: as sites commemorating events in the Gospels and in the lives of the saints; as national communal centers; as hostels along routes; as religious retreats; as agricultural production centers; or as a combination of these motives. The archaeological evidence for these institutions is augmented by rich itinerary and hagiographical sources written by monks who participated in the growth of monasticism in Jerusalem and in the Judean Desert (Chitty 1966; Hirschfeld 1992). Foremost among these sources are Cyril of Scythopolis, John Moschus, Anthony of Choziba, and Peter the Iberian. These writings provide detailed information concerning the life of the ascetics who originally inhabited the sites and geographical data, both distances and topographical features, that help to identify them. Numerous monastic establishments were founded in the immediate vicinity of Jerusalem, covering the Mount of Olives, Gethsemane, the area north of the city walls, in the Hinnom Valley, and on the ridge facing the city to the west. In general, the larger monasteries were those associated directly with sacred events and those closer to the city. In the belt beyond the area immediately around the walls, almost all functioned also as farmsteads. The network of monastic structures (and farms) in the areas surrounding the city attest to strong central control and regulation of land ownership by the monasteries themselves or as plots granted in trust by central authority or by the monasteries themselves as branches of the churches in Jerusalem. Clearly, the density of the monasteries meant that, in many areas, monasteries adjoined each other. This was certainly the situation to the north of the city where a series of monasteries were constructed. Some of them would have been associated with the martyrdom of Stephen, such as the monastery of St. Stephen, built by Empress Eudocia in the fifth century and located under present day St. Etienne (École Biblique). Others had a communal designation, such as the Armenian monastery (fig. 4) discovered during road-building in 1993 (Amit and Wolff 2000), which formed part of a large monastic complex that encompasses a funerary chapel decorated with the famous Bird Mosaic with the inscription: “To the memory and salvation of all the Armenians the names of whom the Lord alone knoweth.” Additional monasteries discovered during road-building in the 1930s and the 1990s, which backed on to these, covered a huge area directly to the north. The size and magnificence of the decoration of these institutions showed these monasteries to have been powerful and wealthy, with enough surplus income to be able to afford beautiful decoration and mosaics. The monasteries of the Mount of Olives, westward through Gethsemane and on to the Church of the Holy Sepulchre, and eastward toward Bethany and to the

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Fig. 4.  The Armenian monastery excavated to the north of the Damascus Gate. (IAA)

Church of Lazarus, were located along the route Jesus followed during his final week, their location marking events on that route––Bethphage, the circular Church of the Ascension, Eleona, Dominus Flevit, Gethsemane, and the huge edifice that covered the Tomb of Mary, which awaits future excavation. These edifices often contain magnificent memorial basilicas built between the fourth and the seventh centuries. The size of these monuments well exceeds any local necessity, exuding the beneficence of imperial sponsorship for the thousands of pilgrims descending on the holy city during the Byzantine period. As we move into the outer ring surrounding the city, we discover many monasteries, some of which were quite wealthy. All belong to the coenobia type, that is, community monasteries in which the clergy lived within the walls of the institution. These consisted of a church or chapel, rooms of religious functionaries, cells of the monks, a farm and associated agricultural installations, and often a hostel for passing travelers and pilgrims. Archaeologically, monastic sites are identifiable by a number of physical features: a chapel, usually paved with a mosaic floor; finds associated with ecclesiastical functions, such as chancel screens, etc.; and roof tiles, which were often exclusively utilized on chapels. Furthermore, monasteries developed a characteristic plan. The coenobia that characterize the area around Jerusalem are mostly composed of a series of rooms set around a central courtyard, often with a cistern at its center. Farmhouses of the period usually had a single dwelling attached to a walled courtyard at one side. In the area within 5 km north of the city, institutions of this type were found in Ramot, Ras Tawil, and Deir Ghazali in Pisgat Zeʾev (fig. 5), and H. Mizna; to the west: the Monastery of the Cross, the Monastery and home for the aged of St. George at Binyanei Haʾuma—the Jerusalem International Convention Center, Ketef Hinnom, two monasteries in ʿAin Kerem, Ein el-Jedide; to the south: at ʿAin el-Haniyya, Ramat Talpiyot, Givat Hamatos, Kathisma (fig. 6), Ramat Rachel, Mar Elias, and others in the area between Jerusalem and Bethlehem.

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A

B

Fig. 5.  The monastery of Deir Ghazali. (IAA)

The area east and southeast of Jerusalem is more complex. Christian settlement of the city probably initially grew on the Mount of Olives and Mount Zion in the third and fourth centuries, away from the pagans of Aelia. Indeed the sites connected to the passion of Jesus, at these locations, would be among the first to receive the imperial attention of Helena and other nobles. The monasteries at Eleona, where Jesus preached to his disciples, and the site of the Ascension, were the first to be constructed. The Mount of Olives was supplemented by monasteries at Bethphage, the Lazarion in Bethany, and by the Monastery of Theodorus and Cyriacus on the east of Mt. Scopus. Farther to the east, we enter the world of the wilderness monasteries. Martyrius (fig. 7), Pharan, Euthymius, St. Peter, St. Gabriel, and Theodosius, which were located on the fringe of the complex of Judean Desert monasteries, were also on the edge of the economic hinterland of Jerusalem––though all

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Fig. 6.  The Kathisma church and monastery between Jerusalem and Bethlehem. (IAA)

Fig. 7.  The Monastery of Marthyrius. (After Magen and Talgam 1990: fig. 5)

the monasteries, even the most isolated were close to each other and no more than a few hours or at most a day or two from Jerusalem. The fact that Juvenal, then Bishop of Jerusalem, was called to dedicate the church of Euthymius in 428, shows that Euthymius certainly valued the connection of the monastery to the center of power in the city (Cyril V. Euth: 14–16; Hirschfeld 1990: 15). Pharan, which controlled the springs of Wadi Qilt, was considered the very eastern edge of Jerusalem’s administrative jurisdiction. Martyrius, who founded a huge coenobia in presentday Maʿale Adumim in the late fifth century, would later return to Jerusalem as a

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priest at the Holy Sepulchre (Hirschfeld 1990: 21). Gabriel, prior to his founding of a monastery in his name close to Pharan, came to attention of Eudocia, who appointed him abbot of the Monastery of St. Stephen in Jerusalem in 460 (Hirschfeld 1990: 23). The relationship between Jerusalem and these monasteries was intimate. The activity of the Judean Desert monks, led by Sabas, Euthymius, Theodosius, and others, would become a major factor in the religious life of the city, determining leadership in Jerusalem as a religious center. National communities were well-represented in the monasteries around the city and in the writings concerning them. Indeed, the linguistic effort now required to understand them clearly displays the cosmopolitan nature of the city. Visitors to Jerusalem would be confronted, possibly for the first time in their lives, with Latinspeaking pilgrims from the west, Armenians, Georgian, Samarians, Syrians, Copts, Jews, pagans, and others, but mainly the local and international, especially Anatolian and Syrian, Greek-speaking community. The Armenians, for instance, arrived in Jerusalem in the fifth century. Remains of monasteries associated with their community were found in the north of the city and on the Mount of Olives. The Georgians were also present in Jerusalem from the same time, and archaeological remnants of their presence have been found south of the city at Deir el-Qatt and Umm Leisun and to the west of the Old City under the turf of the YMCA soccer field. Furthermore, the Life of Peter the Iberian shows that the Georgians also populated religious sites of the Greek-speaking community. Most of the monasteries exposed during the development of the city belong to the local and international Greek-speaking community, whose lives are well documented by written sources and a myriad of inscriptions discovered during excavation. Smaller communities, though well documented in the written sources, are not embodied in the physical remains. Let us examine briefly two monasteries that typify the institutions in the hinterland of Jerusalem.

The “Monastery of Theodorus and Cyriakos” (figs. 8 and 9) In 2000, I, together with my colleague D. Amit, conducted an extensive salvage excavation of a huge architectural complex discovered during the laying of a new road on the eastern slope of Mount Scopus (Amit, Seligman, and Zilberbod: 2003). The site, covering an area of half a hectare, was part of a monastery and hostel for pilgrims and travelers traveling the Jerusalem–Jericho road during the Byzantine and Early Arab periods, located 1.6 Roman miles from Jerusalem’s Damascus Gate. The complex, surrounded by an external wall, was built around a large rectangular courtyard extending across the center of the complex. It was surrounded on four sides by the various functional wings of the monastery that served as the monk’s living quarters, visitor’s lodgings, the ecclesiastical center, and service areas for animals. In the northern section were the heavily eroded remains of a rectangular church with an original length of 20 m. Limited patches of a delicate, colored mosaic, decorated with geometric patterns constituted the remains of the church floor,

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Fig. 8.  The “Monastery of Theodorus and Cyriakos” east of Mount Scopus. (IAA)

together with a large section of the mortar bedding of the mosaic. Parallel to the church to the north was another hall we identified as a baptistry, and west of the church was large atrium. Below the simple moasic floor was a rectangular water cistern supported by a row of arches. South of the church was an elongated hall with five cist graves hewn into the cellar’s bedrock floor. The location of these graves suggests that the remains of the monastery’s founders or clergy were interred here. East of the central courtyard was a wing that appears to have been originally two stories high; it contained the living quarters of the monks and perhaps also those of visiting pilgrims or travelers. Two stables were built on the western side, with mangers along their walls. The stables opened onto a central corridor that gave access to the courtyard on its west and to the agricultural areas in the valley east of the monastery. The eastern part of this wing was occupied by a room with an olivepress installation of an olive press or, alternatively, a donkey mill. West of the central courtyard are two parallel rows of rooms, including a hall paved with a colored mosaic featuring a floral medallion in the center. Inside the medallion was a Greek dedicatory inscription of eight lines that reads: “In the days of Theodorus the priest and abbot (hegumen) and the monk Cyriakos this work was done.” A rectangular marble table found in the hall, and the evidence of the inscription points to the possibility that the hall served as a reception hall and perhaps also as a refectory. In the southern addition to the monastery was a bathhouse. The monastery complex is unique in its extremely complicated and sophisticated water system. This system demonstrates the considerable effort made by the monastery’s builders to provide it with the greatest quantity of water that could possibly be collected from the slopes of Mt. Scopus and from the roofs of the buildings and courtyard floors, despite the region’s semi-arid conditions. The system includes two huge open pools, with a storage capacity of up to 2,400 cu. m, hewn northwest of the monastery complex, and four underground cisterns that were

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Fig. 9.  Plan of the “Monastery of Theodorus and Cyriakos.”

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cut under the buildings and the courtyards, an extensive and intricate network of channels whose length exceeds 350 m within the excavated area alone, as well as ceramic pipes and gutters that drained the rain around and within the complex. Sluice gates, of which only the slits on either side of the channels have survived, allowed control of the flow of water between the pools and cisterns and the channeling of water directly from the built-up area to the fields and orchards in the valley east of the complex. All this would have provided for enhanced efficiency in utilizing the limited water resources for drinking for both humans and animals and for agricultural functions outside the walls of the monastery. The pottery and glass vessels, coins, and other artifacts that were uncovered in the various parts of the complex mostly date to the Byzantine and the Early Islamic periods, betweeen the fifth and eighth cenuturies. The finds, together with the important mosaic inscription, clearly point to the fact that the remnants at the site are of a large monastic complex and hostel. The use as a hostel is emphasised by the considerable stabling space within the monastery. The location of the site on the ancient main road from Jericho to Jerusalem shows that this was the last station of pilgrims on their way to Jerusalem, probably at the site of Baoureim, a site noted by the anonymous Piacenza Pilgrim. Still, without supplementary evidence, we have provisionally termed the institution by the names memorialised on the mosaic floor as the “Monastery of Theodorus and Kyriakos.”

The Georgian Monastery at Umm Leisun Another excavation uncovered a small monastery in the neighborhood of Umm Leisun, 4.5 km southeast of Jerusalem’s Jaffa Gate (Seligman 2004). It consisted of a chapel with mosaic floors and a series of other rooms around a walled courtyard, under which were a number of cisterns. In the northern section of the complex, 3.1 m below the surface of the rooms, we uncovered two burial vaults on either side of a central staircase. The magnificent northern crypt, which was cut into the bedrock, was built of beautifully cut ashlar masonry set into the rock. In the walls were 6 arcosolia, and under the flagstones of the crypt were 7 burial troughs containing the remains of 24 adult males. At the western end of the crypt was a niche in which was set a single raised tomb. On the top surface of the tombstone was a 5-line inscription in Georgian Asomtavruli script, translated as: “This is the grave of Iohane Bishop of Purtavi, a Georgian.” Epigraphic data dates the inscription from the end of the fifth century to the first half of the sixth. This is the oldest known example of this ethnonym on an archaeological artifact either in the Holy Land or Georgia. The fact that the tomb was the most prominent, that the Georgian language was used, and that the nationality is specifically stated indicates that the monastery was a Georgian monastery and not, as with many other examples, a monastery that merely had among its occupants a number of Georgian monks. This archaeological evidence of the Georgian community augments previous data found in Jerusalem at the site of the YMCA mentioning, in Greek, the tomb

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Fig. 10.  Terraced agriculture near Jerusalem.

of “Samuel, Bishop of the Georgians” and the archaeological remains of a Georgian monastery at Bir el-Qatt, quite close to Umm Leisun.

Villages Surprisingly few villages clearly dated to the Byzantine period can be listed in the archaeological record in the vicinity of Jerusalem. The sparseness of the spatial pattern is curious. Is it the result of invisibility in the archaeological record, or simply due to the possibility that most modern villages exist on top of ancient predecessors? Avi-Yonah (1966: 221) suggested a population for Byzantine Palestine of 2,800,000, compared to a population of only 700,000 in 1900, for example—a ratio of 4:1. If so, we must quadruple the number or size of the rural settlements. On this basis, Hopkins (1980: 30) has proposed that the Jerusalem toparchy contained no less than 420 villages and 21 small towns! While this proposal requires archaeological verification, villages would have existed quite close to Jerusalem at Bethany, Anathoth , Gaba, Rama, Ataroth, Gabeon, Motza-Kolonia, Bethlehem, and at many other sites. Certainly this is a matter that requires further archaeological research.

Farming (fig. 10) The area surrounding Jerusalem was extensively farmed during the Byzantine era, both by private farmers and by monastic institutions. Study of the agricultural terraces and the farm systems that characterize the hills of Jerusalem have not been chronologically conclusive but much of the original laying of the terraces can be attributed to this time. Archaeological work in the undeveloped areas to the west of Jerusalem in the Rephaim Valley has demonstrated continuous agricultural use from the Middle Bronze Age on, but clear archaeological evidence was found for the building of new terraces, and the repair of old ones in the Byzantine period. Studies of terracing by Z. Ron (1966) and later by S. Gibson (1995) propose that terracing reached its maximum development in the Byzantine period and that 56% of the

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Fig. 11.  The farm at e-Ras (Shuafat).

hills in the areas west of the city were covered (Ron 1966: 33). The actual figures are less important than the trend they show, which clearly points to highly intensive utilization of the available land for agriculture. Gibson’s detailed landscape study of the Tel el-Ful area, in which many Byzantine period sites were identified, shows that 75% of the area was cultivated in the Byzantine period (Gibson 1995: 260)–– using most of the available land up to four km east of the watershed, at the point where the rainfall average drops from 450 mm to 350 mm per annum. Within this area were monasteries—Deir Sallam, Ras Tawil, Deir Ghazali; villages—Quma, Anata, Hizme; and farms—Ras Abu Maʿaruf. The agricultural potential of the region is further demonstrated by the survey results for this part of Jerusalem’s hinterland. In total, 230 agricultural installations were found, including 13 oil presses and 74 winepresses but also threshing floors, animal pens, cisterns, and many unidentified installations. Not all belong to the Byzantine period, though 12 winepresses and 3 oil presses can be specifically fixed to this time. Farm houses or villas that can be specifically identified as non-monastic institutions are few in number. We should note the villa at Ein Yael, built in the Late

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Roman period but continuing to function in the Byzantine period; Shuafat (e-Ras) (fig. 11), which also continues a Late Roman building; a farm at Ein Tut in Har Nof; Ras Abu Maʿaruf, and Beit Safafa in the south of the city. Huge industrial winepresses were found, producing wine in quantities that well outstripped local demand. Examples exist within monastic complexes (at Ras Tawil, Deir Ghazali, and Bir el-Qatt) and as part of farms—Ras Abu Maʿaruf, Bethphage, Shua­fat, Valley of the Cross, near the Knesset, and at Har Nof. Olive-oil production is evident from the discovery of scores of presses using different technological principles. While the reason for the use of different methods is not entirely clear, Frankel has suggested that the various national communities resident in the Jerusalem area brought with them the technological principles current in their countries of origin. Again, most of the monasteries had oil presses to process the oil from their own groves associated with them. Notable examples are Bir el Qatt, Ein Kerem, Deir Ghazali, and French Hill. Oil presses not connected to monastic compounds were found in Ras Abu Maaruf, Shuafat, Talpiyot, the caves at Luqa, Talpiyot, and Qalandiya.

Ras Abu Maʿaruf (figs. 12 and 13) We will now examine in more detail the farmhouse at Ras Abu Maʿaruf (Seligman 1999). The site is a hill located 4.4 km northwest of Jerusalem’s Damascus Gate. The area is today semi-arid, but the quantity of agricultural installations in the immediate vicinity, as we have seen, points to rich agriculture settlement in the Roman and Byzantine periods. Two large sites were excavated, including olive- and wine-presses on the southwest edge of the hill and a wine-press west of the summit. These sites are both similar and contemporaneous. The large farmhouse is a square structure cut into the bedrock, forming a sloped courtyard surrounded by rooms. Under the surface, as expected, is a large cistern fed by channels that caught the runoff from the hill. Under the farm was an oil press built into a man-made cave, and east of the farm, in a separate building, was a large, complex wine press. The cave was originally a miqveh (ritual bath) of the Herodian period, in the former immersion area of which the collecting vat and press-bed were constructed. The olives were crushed in a crushing basin, which was not found, though its location was evident from the socket in the roof of the cave and a rock-cut base on the floor. A single, slightly tapered millstone was discovered in the debris of the cave. The press operated on the principle of lever-and-screw: a beam was anchored in a niche at the back of the cave. This beam was probably forked at the opposite end, and a nut was fixed between the forks. A wooden screw, threaded in the nut, turned within a socket in the cylindrical screw-weight below, to which it was attached. The screw-weight was set into a round, rock-cut pit, measuring 1.03 m in height and 1 m in diameter. When the screw was turned, the beam lowered and at a certain point lifted the weight off the floor, applying lever-pressure on the olive pulp.

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Fig. 12.  Plan of the farm at Ras Abu Maʿaruf.

The pulp was pressed by placing the beam on a pressing board, above which the frails were piled, into which the pulp was placed. These baskets were set on the press bed. In the center of the bed is a square inset over the opening to the vat. A perforated wooden board or slats were inserted into this inset, and through them the oil and watery lees dripped into the collecting vat. The vat was a large ceramic bowl in the shape of a truncated cone and having a capacity of 190 liters. After processing, the baskets and board were removed and the separated oil was removed with a dipper juglet. This type of installation was common in the Byzantine period, especially in the north and center of the country. In common with many presses, it is built into a cave. The reasons for housing the installation in a closed structure are to protect the valuable equipment while not in use, to allow the process to continue in all weather conditions because harvesting began at the start of the rainy season, and to enable internal illumination to permit work 24 hours a day during the short pressing season. In addition, the strength provided by the natural rock-niche could withstand the great pressure produced by the mechanical leverage of the installation. Now let us look at the figures for maximum production for this single press. The major problem is that scholars cannot agree on the basic assumptions required to calculate the numeric data for a vat that contained 190 liters of liquid—that is, 47.5 liters of oil from 205 kg of olives. Calculated yields thus range from 4,200 liters to 16,626 liters for the 10-week pressing season. This yield necessitates olive groves ranging between 2.1 and 11.1 hectares. Nonetheless, even the median figure is a substantial area and, after all, this was one of many presses surrounding Jerusalem. A winepress is situated alongside the farmhouse. The press was first installed in the Herodian period, but its later, sophisticated development belongs to the Byzantine period. A similar winepress was found nearby. Both were of the complex type and represent a form known specifically from a number of other sites in the Byzantine period. The grapes brought from the field were placed on the auxiliary floors and probably left there for around three days to allow the static pressure of the bunches to produce the first must. This poured through the ducts in the floors into the vaulted

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Fig. 13.  The oil press at Ras Abu Maʿaruf.

collecting compartments below. The holes to the main treading floors were blocked to allow the must to collect. It was probably collected separately to produce wine of the highest quality (  prototropum mustum). If these floors were roofed, as we suggest, then the usual practice of letting the grapes stand directly in the sun was not followed at this site—this procedure usually was followed when the goal was to produce the sweet vinum dulce wine. The grapes were then shoveled onto the main treading floor to be pressed underfoot, the must flowing into the vat via a settling tank to remove any solids. The juice would then be left for three to four days in the vat for initial fermentation and then transferred into jars for slow secondary fermentation in a cool, dark place. The remains left after the treading were collected for further processing in one of three ways, and from this would be produced a low-quality wine (mustum tortivum, circumsicium) by pressing the dregs with a single screw set into the main treading floor and one of the auxiliary floors. Among the numerous examples of complex winepresses have been published only a few that have auxiliary floors and compartments. Contemporary examples are found in Jerusalem’s hinterland: Bethphage, Bir el-Qatt, a so-called “bath” found in the excavations of the Jerusalem YMCA, the Knesset, the Valley of the Cross, and at Shuʿafat. The total volume of the collecting vats, excluding the capacity of the compartments, is 17.5 cu. m. This allowed production on a scale that is obviously not merely for a family. The multiple treading floors allowed the separation of varieties of grapes or of grapes belonging to various growers. Assuming that the winepresses belonged to a single owner, the need for two adjacent installations can also be similarly explained, because while one waits for initial fermentation within the vats, the main treading floors and the screw presses are effectively out of action. Two units would allow continuous processing during the busy harvest season. This shows operation, management, and probably marketing on an industrial level. The

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large area in the area devoted to viticulture, and the fact that other winepresses in the area could also process additional quantities, points to the existence of large vineyard estates. The calculation shows that, in the course of a harvest period of 50 days, the vats could, at maximum use, be filled and emptied 12 times, allowing 3–4 days for initial fermentation. The maximum annual quantity of wine produced at Ras Abu Maʿaruf alone is 210,000 liters or 280,000 modern bottles—enough wine for 775 people to drink a bottle every day for a year. Maximum production would have required between 21 and 42 hectares of vineyard. Furthermore, 12 other presses were found close by. This could mean that the area to the northeast of Jerusalem was covered by up to 520 hectares of vines producing as much as 2,600,000 liters! Since this was only one of many wine-production centers in the region, the consequences of these numbers for the landscape of Jerusalem is clear, as is the implication of this kind of demand from Jerusalem’s population, whose calorific intake must have been dominated by the “liquid meal,” a situation mirrored in Roman Pompeii ( Jongman 1988: 97–100.

Discussion Any study of a city must also involve its hinterland. While a village or farm can exist without the city, the reverse is not true. Cities, Jerusalem among them, had their own agricultural sector, but Jerusalem at this time, as in the Herodian period, had, by virtue of its function as a holy city, a large non-productive sector. This sector, which was employed in the city’s ecclesiastical institutions, relied for its very existence on the agricultural surplus generated by the rural areas. Furthermore, the many pilgrims coming to Jerusalem also had to be provided for. Their needs were met by farms and farming monasteries that surrounded the city and by agri-technological developments in viticulture and oliculture that industrialized the process and massively increased yields. Historical sources, but especially the archaeological surveys and excavations conducted since 1970 in the environs of Jerusalem, have provided us with rich data on the periphery of the city. Numerous monasteries, farms, agricultural landscape features (terraces, cisterns, irrigation systems, observation booths, field boundaries, etc.), and installations have been located, though the village structure still requires further research. In studying the bands of settlement around the city, geographical and climatalogical features are crucial. To the east, the Mount of Olives forms the edge of the Judean desert. Settlement in this direction, beyond that associated with the monastic movement, is limited to the eastern slope of that mountain. To the west, the slope of the Judean Hills is dramatic west of Ein Kerem, and here, too, settlement is limited and sparse until one reaches the foothills of the Shephelah. Thus, much of the agricultural hinterland of Jerusalem would have been located on in the hills towards Neapolis in the north and Arbo-Hebron to the south. Many questions are left open, requiring future research: Will we be able to assess the true relationship between the political boundaries of Jerusalem and its economic boundaries? What is the pattern of settlement around the city? In chronological transition, is there a discernible difference in the settlement pattern fol-

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lowing dramatic political change––after the destruction of the Temple in 70 c.e. and the expulsion of the Jewish population and between the Roman period and the introduction of Christianity as a potent force? Recent research shows that the transition to the Early Arab period both in the city and outside was hardly felt, but this process also should be clarified. Hinterland studies may be 40 years old, but for Jerusalem they are in their infancy!

Bibliography Adams, R. McC., and Nissen, H. J. 1972 The Uruk Countryside: The Natural Setting of Urban Societies. Chicago: University of Chicago Press. Adams, R. McC. 1981 Heartland of Cities: Surveys of Ancient Settlement and Land Use on the Floodplain of the Euphrates. Chicago: University of Chicago Press. Amit, D., and Wolff, S. 2000 An Armenian Monastery in the Morasha neighborhood, Jerusalem. Pp. 293–98 in Ancient Jerusalem Revealed, ed. H. Geva. Jerusalem: Israel Exploration Society. Amit, D.; Seligman, J.; and Zilberbod, I. 2003 The “Monastery of Theodorus and Cyriacus” on the Eastern Slope of Mount Scopus, Jerusalem. Pp. 139–48 in One Land—Many Cultures: Archaeological Studies in Honour of Stanislao Loffreda, ed. G. Claudio Bottini, L. Di Segni, and L. D. Chrupcala. Jerusalem: OFM. Avi-Yonah, M.  1966 The Holy Land from the Persian to the Arab conquests (536 b.c. to a.d. 640): A Historical Geography. Grand Rapids, MI: Baker. Avni, G. 1997 The Necropolis of Jerusalem and Beth Guvrin during the 4th–7th centuries a.d. as a Model for Urban Cemeteries in Palestine in the Late Roman and Byzantine Periods. Ph.D. dissertation. Hebrew University of Jerusalem. Barker, G., and Lloyd, J., eds. 1991 Roman Landscapes: Archaeological Survey in the Mediterranean Region. London: British School at Rome. Baruch, E. 1998 The Economic Hinterland of Jerusalem in the Herodian Period. Cathedra 89: 41– 62. [Hebrew] Broshi, M. 1978 Estimating the Population of Ancient Jerusalem. Biblical Archaeology Review 4 (2): 10–15. Chitty, D. J. 1966 The Desert a City: An Introduction to the Study of Egyptian and Palestinian Monasticism under the Christian Empire. Oxford: Blackwell. Conder, C. R., and Kitchener H. H. 1883 The Survey of Western Palestine III: Judaea. London: Committee of the Palestine Exploration Fund. Dauphin, C. 1991–92  Man Makes His Landscape. Bulletin of the Anglo-Israel Archaeological Society 12: 7–31. 2005 Eusebius of Caesarea, Onomasticon: The Place Names of Divine Scripture, including the Latin Edition of Jerome. Translated by R. Notley and Z. Safrai. Leiden: Brill.

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Frankel, R. 1999 Wine and Oil Production in Antiquity in Israel and Other Mediterranean Countries. Sheffield: Sheffield Academic Press. Gibson S. 1995 Landscape Archaeology and Ancient Agricultural Field Systems in Palestine. Ph.D. dissertation. University College, London. Gibson, S., and Edelstein G. 1985 Investigating Jerusalem’s Rural Landscape. Levant 17: 139–55. Hirschfeld, Y. 1990 List of the Byzantine Monasteries in the Judaean Desert. Pp. 1–89 in Christian Archaeology in the Holy Land: New discoveries. Essays in Honour of Virgilio C. Corbo, ed. C. G. Bottini, L. C. Di Segni, and E. Alliata. Jerusalem: Franciscan Printing Press. Hirschfeld, Y. 1992 The Judean Desert Monasteries in the Byzantine Period. New Haven: Yale University Press. Hopkins, I. W. J. 1980 The City Region in Roman Palestine. PEQ 112: 19–32. Jongman, W. 1988 The Economy and Society of Pompeii. Amsterdam. J. C. Gieben. King, G. R. D., and Cameron, A. 1994 The Byzantine and Early Islamic Near East II: Land Use and Settlement Patterns. Princeton: Darwin. Kloner, A. 2000–2003  Archaeological Survey of Israel: Survey of Jerusalem, vols. I–III. Jerusalem: Israel Antiquities Authority. Kloner, A., and Zissu, B. 2003 The Necropolis of Jerusalem in the Second Temple Period. Jerusalem: Yad Yitzhak Ben Zvi. [Hebrew] Magen, Y., and Talgam, R. 1990 The Monastery of St. Martyrius at Maʿale Adummim (Khirbet el-Marussas) and Its Mosaics. Pp. 91–152 in Christian Archaeology in the Holy Land, New Discoveries: Essays in Honour of Virgilio Corbo, OFM, ed. C. C. Bottini, L. Di Segni, and E. Alliata. Jerusalem: Franciscan Printing Press. Magness, J. 1993 Jerusalem Ceramic Chronology: Circa 200–800 c.e. Sheffield: JSOT Press. Notley, S., and Safrai, Z. 2005 Eusebius, Onomasticon: The Place Names of Divine Scripture. Jewish and Christian Perspectives 9. Leiden: Brill. Patrich, J. 1995 The Judean Desert Monasticism in the Byzantine Period: The Institutions of Sabas and His Disciples. Jerusalem: Yad Yitzhak Ben Zvi. [Hebrew] Portugali, Y. 1982 A Field Methodology for Regional Archaeology (The Jezreel Valley Survey 1981). Tel Aviv 9: 170–88. Rich, J., and Wallace-Hadrill, A. 1991 City and Countryside in the Ancient World. London: Routledge. Ron, Z. Y. D. 1966 Agricultural Terraces in the Judean Mountains. Israel Exploration Journal 16: 33–49. Safrai, Z. 1980 Administrative Boundaries in Eretz Israel in the Period of the Mishnah and the Talmud. Tel Aviv: HaKibbutz HaMeuchad Press. [Hebrew]

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Safrai Z., and Sasson A., eds. 2001 Quarrying and Quarries in the Land of Israel. Pp. 82–89. Elkanah: Eretz Chefetz. [Hebrew] Schwartz, E. 1939 Cyril of Scythopolis, Vita Euthymii, pp. 3–85. Leipzig: Hinrichs. Schwartz, J. J. 1991 Lod (Lydda), Israel: From its Origins through the Byzantine period, 5600 b.c.e.–640 c.e. Oxford: British Archaeological Reports. Seligman, J. 2004 Excavations at the Georgian Monastery from the Byzantine Period in Umm Leisun, Jerusalem. Pp. 238–52 in The Twenty Centuries of Christianity in Georgia, ed. Rismag Gordeziani. Tbilisi: Georgian Academy of Sciences. Seligman, J. 1999 Agricultural Complexes at Ras Abu Maʿaruf (Pisgat Zeʾev East ‘A.) ʿAtiqot 38: 137–70. Sondini, J.-P. 1993 La Contribution de L’archeologie a la Connaissance du Monde Byzantin (IVe–VIIe siecles). Dumbarton Oaks Papers 47: 139–84. Tate, G. 1992 Les Campagnes de la Syrie du Nord di Ii  e au VII   e Siecle. Paris: Geuthner. Tchalenko, G. 1953–58  Villages Antiques de la Syrie du Nord I–III. Paris: Geuthner. Tsafrir, Y.; Di Segni, L.; and Green, J. 1994 Tabula Imperii Romani Iudaea-Palaestina: Eretz Israel in the Hellenistic, Roman and Byzantine Periods—Maps and Gazetteer. Jerusalem: Israel Academy of Sciences and Humanities. Van Andel, T. H., and Runnels C. 1987 Beyond the Acropolis: A Rural Greek Past. Stanford: Stanford University Press. Villeneuve, F. 1985 L’economie rurale et la vie des campagnes dans le Hauran antique (1er siecle avant J.‑C.–Vie siecle apres J.-C.). Pp.63–136 in Hauran I, ed. J.-M. Dentzer. Paris: Geuthner. Warren, C. 1884 The Survey of Western Palestine: Jerusalem. London: Palestine Exploration Fund. Zissu, B. 2001 Rural Settlement in the Judean Hills and Foothills from the Late Second Temple Period to the Bar Kokhba Revolt. Ph.D. dissertation. Hebrew University of Jerusalem. [Hebrew]

From Hagia Polis to Al-Quds: The Byzantine–Islamic Transition in Jerusalem Gideon Avni

Israel Antiquities Authority

Preface Early Islamic Jerusalem is traditionally identified with the monumental construction of the Dome of the Rock and al-Aqsa Mosque by the Umayyad caliphs ʿAbd al-Malik b. Marwan (685–705) and his son al-Walid (705–715). It was believed that these magnificent monuments, dominating the skyline of the Holy City, transferred the focus of religious orientation in Jerusalem back from the Church of the Holy Sepulchre to the Temple Mount, which was known from this period as “the noble sanctuary”––al-Haram al-Sharif. The Haram area attracted the attention of scholars from the 19th century onward. Many studies saw the reshaping of the ancient sanctuary and its adaptation to the new Islamic regime as a landmark in the transition of Jerusalem from a Christian city to a major Islamic center. Several studies have been specifically devoted to the construction of the Early Islamic monuments (e.g., Creswell 1969; Grabar 1959, 1996; Rosen-Ayalon 1989), and various interpretations have been suggested for the political and religious background that led to the establishment of a major Islamic center in Jerusalem (see Elad 1995: 147–62 for a summary of previous research). Archaeology contributes the lion’s share to the study of the early Islamic presence in this area. Large-scale excavations to the south and southwest of the Haram have revealed the hitherto unknown remains of four monumental buildings established during the Umayyad rule in Jerusalem and identified as palaces or administrative centers (Mazar 1975; Ben-Dov 1982: 271–321; Reich and Billig 2000; Baruch and Reich 2000; Rosen-Ayalon 1989: 8–11; Grabar 1996: 128–30). The massive Early Islamic construction on the Haram and its surroundings represents a dramatic change in the shape and urban role of this area of Jerusalem. As a result, archaeological and architectural studies devoted to other parts of the city were overshadowed by the majestic appearance of the Dome of the Rock and the al-Aqsa Mosque. The emergence of Islam and the conquest of Jerusalem have been portrayed in traditional historical research as a dramatic event that within a short period of time transformed the religious orientation of the Holy City. Although the historical sources emphasize the fact that Jerusalem was not stormed in a violent invasion but rather surrendered peacefully to the Islamic forces (Gil 1996a: 6–9), they give the impression that the Christian communities of Jerusalem were doomed. Sophro­ nius, the last Patriarch of Jerusalem before the Islamic conquest, associated the 387

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Fig. 1.  Map of Jerusalem in the 8th century.

calamities that Christians in the Holy Land suffered from with the coming of the Muslim army (Schick 1995: 69–72; Kaegi 1992: 100–102; Gil 1996a: 5; Levy-Rubin 2006: 53–55). Historical evaluations based on these descriptions present a picture of violent conquest and a rapid collapse of the Christian presence in Palestine. For example, M. Gil in his monumental book, The History of Palestine, 634–1099 (1992) describes the sufferings of the local population: One can assume that the local population suffered immensely in the course of the war and it is very likely that many villages were destroyed and uprooted in the frontier re-

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Fig. 2.  Map of Jerusalem in the 11th century.

gions and that the lot of these local populations was very bitter indeed. It appears that the period of the Arab conquest was also that of the destruction of the synagogues and churches of the Byzantine era, remnants of which have been unearthed in our own time and are still being discovered (Gil 1992: 75).

However, the accumulating archaeological evidence from Jerusalem and its surroundings presents a strikingly different picture, showing that the Byzantine– Islamic transformation of the Holy City was a long and complicated process. The traditional view, that the Islamic conquest triggered a rapid change in the urban landscape and its population, is countered by the results of recent archaeological excavations. The finds from these excavations indicate a period of stability and slow change both in the urban area and in its agricultural hinterland, except for the area of the Haram and its immediate surroundings. It seems that the transition

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from Christian to Islamic Jerusalem was a long process that took more than 400 years; Christian communities remained active in the city throughout the Early Islamic period. A vivid expression of this massive Christian presence is apparent in the observations of the Muslim historian, the Jerusalemite al-Muqaddasi, who by the middle of the 10th century complained that most of the population of Jerusalem was still Christian (Collins 2001: 144). While the Temple Mount /al-Haram al-Sharif area is the only part of the city in which the archaeological record indicates a significant change in the urban layout, other areas of Jerusalem suggest that the Byzantine period urban fabric was maintained. Archaeological evidence for continuity of both religious Christian institutions and private dwellings has been found in several excavations in and around Jerusalem. Furthermore, no remains of destruction layers dated to the first half of the 7th century can be identified in any of the numerous excavations carried out in the Jerusalem area. This leads to the conclusion that neither the Persian invasion of 614 c.e. nor the Islamic conquest in 638 c.e. caused visible damage or destruction to the urban fabric of Jerusalem. Instead, many of the Byzantine urban features remained the same throughout the Early Islamic period.

The Archaeological Evidence Byzantine Jerusalem is fairly well-known from historical descriptions and archaeological finds (see Vincent and Abel 1914–26; Geva 1994; Tsafrir 1999, for comprehensive summaries). The famous Madaba Map depicts the city’s urban layout and its major monuments around the second half of the 6th century, emphasizing the central position of the Church of the Holy Sepulchre within the urban landscape (Avi-Yonah 1954; Donner 1992 ; Tsafrir 1999: 342–51). Archaeological evidence points toward an ongoing urban expansion in and around Jerusalem between the 4th and 7th centuries (Tsafrir 1999: 285–95, 330–42). Urban construction expanded far beyond the city walls, especially to the north and east (Kloner 2003: 47*–58*). The distinction between the urban area and its hinterland became blurred with the massive expansion of Jerusalem beyond its walls during the Byzantine and Early Islamic period (Avni 2005). This expansion is particularly evident to the north of Damascus Gate. Several excavations were conducted there in conjunction with large-scale modern construction, first at the end of the 19th century and again in the 1990s, revealing an extensive network of monasteries that were established during the Byzantine period and that continued to flourish in Early Islamic times (Lagrange 1894; Vincent and Abel 1914–26: 743–801; Amit and Wolff 2000; Tzaferis et al. 2000; Tsafrir 1999: 336–42). In some of these compounds, considerable construction was undertaken during the 7th and 8th centuries, when additional wings were built and new mosaic floors with inscriptions commemorating the donors were laid. In addition to inscriptions in Greek found in several complexes, a definitive Armenian presence was established in one of the monasteries, as indicated by inscriptions in ancient Armenian script (Stone and Amit 1996). The finds show that Christian religious institutions continued to function uninterruptedly during the Early Islamic period and until the 9th or 10th century c.e.

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Additional evidence for massive Christian presence during Early Islamic times was found in several monasteries and churches located outside the city’s limits. A large monastery was recently excavated on the eastern slopes of Mount Scopus, revealing a clear chronological sequence. Dedicated to Theodorus and Cyriacus, it was founded in the 5th century and continued to function at least until the 9th century (Amit, Seligman, and Zilberbod 2003). Extra-mural monastic compounds that continued to be used in early Islamic times were also found to the east of the walled city, mainly on the slopes of the Mount of Olives (Bagatti 1956: 240–70; Bagatti and Millik 1958), as well as to the west, southwest, and south of the city’s boundaries (Barkay 2000; Illife 1935; Ussishkin 1993: 346–59). Several agricultural complexes into which monasteries or churches were incorporated were excavated northeast and northwest of Jerusalem, indicating the same pattern of continuity (Arav, Di Segni, and Kloner 1990; Gibson 1985–86; Avner 2000). A similar settlement pattern was revealed farther to the south and southeast of Jerusalem, with a number of monastic complexes excavated in the area between Jerusalem and Bethlehem (Corbo 1955). The monumental church of the Kathisma located near the ancient JerusalemBethlehem road constitutes one of the most significant finds supporting the continuity of the Christian presence in the Jerusalem area (Avner 2003). This church, octagonal in plan, was originally constructed in the 5th century and went through several stages of reconstruction. During the 8th century, the church was once again refurbished, including a repaving with mosaics. A small semicircular niche, possibly a mihrab, was installed in the southern wall of the inner octagon, blocking one of the passages and suggesting that the space was used as a mosque. A new mosaic floor was laid adjacent to the niche, decorated with a most impressive depiction of palm trees. The stratigraphic sequence indicates that this change occurred sometime in the first half of the 8th century (Avner 2003: 180–81; 2007). If the semi­circular niche was indeed a mihrab, it should be viewed as one of the most interesting and earliest examples of a Byzantine church incorporating a mosque. It appears that the two cultic installations were in use simultaneously, with both Christians and Muslims praying in the same building. The accumulating evidence from a number of excavated sites shows that churches and monasteries in the Jerusalem area continued to function throughout the Early Islamic period, some of them surviving until the 10th or 11th century (Schick 1995: 325–59; Bahat 1996: 87–95). Thus, it seems that the Christian presence in Jerusalem and its surroundings was far more significant than suggested by the historical sources. Excavations conducted along the city walls and within the Old City present a similar pattern of continuity. The city walls of Jerusalem, reconstructed at the end of the 3rd or the beginning of the 4th century, continued to delimit the core of the urban area up to the second half of the 10th century (Vincent and Abel 1914–26: 942; Tsafrir 1977), the beginning of the 11th century (Bahat 1996: 37–41), or even as late as the second half of that century (Ben-Dov 2002: 187–92). No evidence for destruction of the city walls has been found in excavations conducted in a number of places along the Byzantine walls (e.g., Hamilton 1944; Weksler-Bdolah 2007 and

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in this volume). During the Early Islamic period, the city wall went through several stages of alteration. Its northern section was probably renovated and partly rebuilt in the 8th century (Hamilton 1944; Magness 1991). During the same period, largescale renovations were carried out in the Haram walls and at the southern city wall (Ben-Dov 2002: 174–82). In spite of these changes, the archaeological evidence shows that the city limits of the Byzantine period were maintained throughout most of the Early Islamic period (figs. 1–2). Continuity with regard to other aspects of the urban fabric is evident throughout the walled city. The Late Roman street-grid of Jerusalem, maintained during the Byzantine period, did not change in Early Islamic times. Although the colonnaded Cardo and Decumanus became narrower and more crowded as a result of the construction of new shops along the streets (Bahat 1996: 49–52; Barbé and Deàdle 2006: 24*; 2007), as common in other cities of the Near East (e.g., Kennedy 1985: 11–13; Tsafrir and Foerster 1997: 138–40; Al-Asàd and Stepinowski 1989), the major streets and alleys were continuously used during the Early Islamic and later medieval times (Wilkinson 1975: 118–36; Bahat 1996: 49–52). A number of smallscale excavations were conducted in the main alleys of the Old City, in which the large stone pavements of the Late Roman and Byzantine streets were unearthed underneath the present-day streets, providing further evidence for this continuity (Tsafrir 1999: 142–56; 295–300; Kloner and Bar-Nathan 2007). Unfortunately, these excavations have not yet been fully published and it is impossible to determine the exact date of construction and renovations of the ancient pavements. The division of the walled city into quarters was already established in Byzantine times (Tsafrir 1999). During the Early Islamic period, the city quarters were re­ arranged according to the religious and ethnic affiliations of the population (Bahat 1996: 53–65). A Jewish quarter was established in the southern part of the city and later moved into the northeastern area of the Old City, where it was located on the eve of the Crusader conquest (Bahat 1996: 53–54; Prawer 1947–48; 1991; for a different opinion, see Gil 1996c: 171–74). The Christian quarter of Early Islamic Jerusalem was located approximately in the same area as the present-day Christian quarter, in the northwestern part of the Old City centering around the Church of the Holy Sepulchre (Bahat 1996: 58–65; Linder 1996). Significant changes took place there in the 9th century, as part of the initiative of Charlemagne (Bahat 1996: 52–64), and again in the 11th century, when several public buildings were constructed and renovated in the Muristan area, to the south of the Church of the Holy Sepulchre (Bahat 1996: 60–65; Patrich 1984; Boaz 2001: 85–88). The prominent location of the Christian quarter and the additional construction of ecclesiastic institutions in this part of Jerusalem during Early Islamic times indicate that the local Christian communities maintained their leading position in the city. The most explicit example is the Church of the Holy Sepulchre itself, which remained physically unchanged in the Early Islamic period. The archaeological evidence for a Christian presence in the church and its surroundings is supported by a recent survey and excavation (Avni and Seligman 2003). It appears that the church did not suffer significant damage during the Persian in-

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Fig. 3.  Plan of the Holy Sepulchre and the adjacent church.

vasion of 614 c.e. and the Muslim conquest in 638 c.e. Instead, the archaeological, architectural, and epigraphic evidence indicates that considerable construction and renovation took place both in the church and in the adjacent compounds throughout Byzantine and Early Islamic times (Avni and Seligman 2003, forthcoming; Di Segni, in this volume). Evidence for the construction of a church adjacent to the Church of the Holy Sepulchre was found in an excavation carried out on the grounds of the Coptic Patriarchate, north of the Church (Avni and Seligman 2003: 156–58). The new church, built in the Early Islamic period, consisted of two aisles and a central nave and was probably covered by a central dome supported by four massive columns (fig. 3). The scant ceramic evidence found underneath small patches of the original stone floor show that the church was in use during the 9th and 10th centuries, and was probably demolished in 1009 c.e., together with the Church of the Holy Sepulchre, by the Muslim caliph al-Hākim. The archaeological finds show that large sections of the northwestern part of the Old City (in the area of today’s Christian Quarter) belonged to the Christian

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communities of Jerusalem throughout the Early Islamic period. The only Muslim presence in this area is indicated by a large inscription in Arabic found in the Russian Hospice east of the Church of the Holy Sepulchre: it forbids non-Muslims from entering a certain mosque. This mosque is probably the Mosque of ʿUmar, established near the church in the 10th century (Clermont-Ganneau 1898: 302–62; Van Berchem 1922: 59–61; Bahat 1996: 59–61). Although many historical sources claim that the Church of the Holy Sepulchre was completely demolished in 1009 by order of al-Hākim (Canard 1965), recent archaeological investigations indicate that significant parts of the original Byzantine church were left intact (Biddle 1999; Avni and Seligman forthcoming). It appears that the damage to the church was repaired in a relatively short time, that the Christian liturgical practices and ceremonies were renewed within a few years, and that the church once again functioned as the major Christian shrine in Jerusalem (Biddle 1999: 72–73). The southern area of Early Islamic Jerusalem, including the City of David spur, the Tyropoeon valley, and the slopes of Mt. Zion, was inhabited throughout the Early Islamic period (fig. 1). Evidence for the continuity of residential areas was found in several excavations. During the excavations carried out in the 1920s in the upper part of the City of David, the remains were uncovered of several houses that were then dated to the Byzantine period (Crowfoot and Fitzgerald 1929: 58–60; Macalister and Duncan 1926: 137–45). However, a reevaluation of the finds supports uninterrupted use between the Byzantine and the Early Islamic period, with no evidence of destruction (Magness 1992). Some of the houses seem to have been used for a long period of time, and it seems that an uninterrupted phase of occupation lasted into the Crusader and Mamluk periods (Magness 1992: 71). Although private houses in this area follow the Byzantine construction tradition, the urban layout was more spread out. Open spaces were identified between the dwellings, and it seems that these were used as small agricultural plots. Industrial installations were constructed within and between the houses (Bahat 1996: 68–70).

Conclusion: The Definition of Urban Change The accumulating archaeological evidence from Jerusalem and its hinterland evince a clear pattern of continuity from the Byzantine to the Early Islamic period, with a very slow and gradual process of change; it does not support the claim of an Islamic sovereignty and a constant decline of the Christian population in Jerusalem (e.g., Linder 1996: 122–22; Gil 1996b: 109–11). The Christian presence in Jerusalem by no means ended with the Muslim conquest; religious services continued, and evidence for expansion and new construction of churches and monasteries has been found in many excavations in the Jerusalem area. The recent archaeological evidence suggests that between the 5th and the 9th centuries Jerusalem expanded considerably to the north and beyond its 4th-century walls. An extensive network of monasteries, villas, and farms was constructed around the walled city, creating a vast suburban area. Although Early Islamic Jerusalem was identified with the monumental Muslim religious buildings on the Haram, this was the only urban area in which a dramatic

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change occurred. In most other areas, the slow and gradual religious and cultural transformation supported by the archaeological discoveries does not represent a monolithic Islamic domination of the city. Several urban components indicate continuity in form and function. The city walls retained their former layout at least until the 10th century; domestic structures were only gradually altered following the Byzantine period; and Christian religious institutions continued to flourish for at least three centuries after the Muslim conquest of Jerusalem. The major features of the Byzantine city were preserved, demonstrating a gradual and long process of transformation between the 7th and the 11th centuries. During most of this period, Christian institutions still dominated the urban landscape. This process is evident at many excavated sites, including the Church of the Holy Sepulchre in the heart of Jerusalem, as well as the large network of monasteries, churches, and farms on the outskirts of the city.

References Al-Asàd, K., and Stepinowski, F. M. 1989 The Umayyad Suq in Palmyra. Damaszener Mitteilungen 4: 205–23. Amit, D., and Wolff, S. 2000 An Armenian Monastery in the Morasha Neighborhood, Jerusalem. Pp. 293–98 in Ancient Jerusalem Revealed, 2nd ed., ed. H. Geva. Jerusalem: Israel Exploration Society. Amit, D.; Seligman, J.; and Zilberbod, I. 2003 The ‘Monastery of Theodoros and Cyriacus’ on the Eastern Slope of Mount Scopus, Jerusalem. Pp. 139–48 in One Land, Many Cultures: Archaeological Studies in Honor of Stanislao Loffreda OFM, ed. G. C. Bottini, L. Di Segni, and L. D. Chrupcala. Jerusalem: Studium Biblicum Franciscanum. Arav, R.; Di Segni, L.; and Kloner, A. 1990 An Eighth Century Monastery Near Jerusalem. Liber Annus 50: 313–20. Avi-Yonah, M. 1954 The Madaba Mosaic Map. Jerusalem: Israel Exploration Society. Avner, R. 2000 Deir Ghazali: A Byzantine Monastery Northeast of Jerusalem. ʿAtiqot 40: 25*–53*. [Hebrew] 2003 The Recovery of the Kathisma Church and its Influence on Octagonal Buildings. Pp. 173–86 in One Land, Many Cultures: Archaeological Studies in Honor of Stanislao Loffreda OFM, ed. G. C. Bottini, L. Di Segni and L. D. Chrupcala. Jerusalem: Studium Biblicum Franciscanum. 2007 The Kathisma: A Christian and Muslim Pilgrimage Site. ARAM 18–19: 541–57. Avni, G. 2005 The Urban Area of Jerusalem in the Roman and Byzantine Periods: A View from the Necropolis. Journal of Roman Archaeology 18: 373–96. Avni. G., and Seligman, J. 2003 New Excavations at the Church of the Holy Sepulchre Compound. Pp. 153–62 in One Land, Many Cultures: Archaeological Studies in Honor of Stanislao Loffreda OFM, ed. G. C. Bottini, L. Di Segni, and L. D. Chrupcala. Jerusalem: Studium Biblicum Franciscanum. forthcoming  Excavations at the Church of the Holy Sepulchre. ʿAtiqot 000: 00–00. Bahat, D. 1996 The Physical Infrastructure. Pp. 38–101 The History of Jerusalem: The Early Muslim Period (638–1099), ed. J. Prawer and H. Ben-Shammai. Jerusalem: Yad Ben Zvi.

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Bagatti, P. B. 1956 Scavo di un monastero al Dominus Flevit. Liber Annus 6: 240–70. Bagatti, P. B., and Milik, J. T. 1958 Gli scavi del ‘Dominus Flevit’ I: la necropoli del periodo romano. Jerusalem: Studium Biblicum Franciscanum. Barbé, H., and Deàdle, T. 2006 Jerusalem: Ohel Yizhaq. Pp. 19*–29* in vol. 11 of New Studies on Jerusalem, ed. E. Baruch and A. Faust. Ramat Gan: Bar Ilan University Press. 2007 Jerusalem, Ohel Yzhak Sinagogue. Hadashot Arkeologiot – Excavations and Surveys in Israel 119 (www.hadashot-esi.org.il). Barkay, G. 2000 Excavations of Ketef Hinnom in Jerusalem. Pp. 85–106 in Ancient Jerusalem Revealed, ed. H. Geva. 2nd ed. Jerusalem: Israel Exploration Society Baruch, Y., and Reich, R. 2000 The Umayyad Buildings near the Temple Mount: Reconsideration in the light of Recent Excavations. Pp. 117–32 in vol. 8 of New Studies on Jerusalem, ed. E. Baruch and A. Faust. Ramat Gan: Bar Ilan University Press. [Hebrew] Ben-Dov, M. 1982 In the Shadow of the Temple. New York: Harper and Row. 2002 The Historical Atlas of Jerusalem. New York: Continuum. Biddle, M. 1999 The Tomb of Christ. Phoenix Mill: Sutton. Boas, A. J. 2001 Jerusalem in the Time of the Crusaders: Society, Landscape and Art in the Holy City under Frankish Rule. London: Routledge. Canard, M. 1965 Destruction de l’Eglise de la Résurrection par le calife Hăkim et I’histoire de la descente du feu sacré. Byzantion 35 :16–43. Clermont-Ganneau, C. 1898 La basilique de Constantine et la mosque d’Omar à Jérusalem. Pp. 302–62 in Recueil d’archéologie orientale II. Paris: E. Leroux. Collins, B. 2001 Al-Muqaddasī: The Best Divisions for the Knowledge of the Regions (Ahsan al-Taqāsīm fī Maʿarifat al Aqālīm). Reading: Garnet. Corbo, V. G. 1955 Gli scavi di Kh. Siyar el-Ghanam (Campo dei pastori) e I monastery dei dintoni. Jerusalem: Studium Biblicum Franciscanum. Crowfoot, J. W., and Fitzgerald, G. M. 1929 Excavations in the Tyropoeon Valley, Jerusalem, 1927. Palestine Exploration Fund Annual 5. London: Palestine Exploration Fund. Creswell, K. A. C. 1969 Early Muslim Architecture, vol. 1. Oxford: Clarendon Press. Donner, H. 1992 The Mosaic Map of Madaba. Kampen: Pharos. Elad, A. 1995 Medieval Jerusalem and Islamic Worship: Holy Places, Ceremonies, Pilgrimage. Leiden: Brill. Geva, H. 1994 Jerusalem: The Byzantine Period. Pp. 768–85 in vol. 2 of New Encyclopedia of Archaeological Excavations in the Holy Land, ed. E. Stern and A. Gilboa. Jerusalem: Israel Exploration Society. Gibson, S. 1985–86  Ras et-Tawil: A Byzantine Monastery North of Jerusalem. Bulletin of the AngloIsrael Society 1985–86: 69–73.

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Gil, M. 1992 The History of Palestine, 634–1099. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. 1996a The Political History of Jerusalem during the Early Muslim Period. Pp. 1–37 in The History of Jerusalem: The Early Muslim Period (638–1099), ed. J. Prawer and H. BenShammai. Jerusalem: Yad Ben Zvi. 1996b The Authorities and the Local Population. Pp. 101–20 in The History of Jerusalem: The Early Muslim Period (638–1099), ed. J. Prawer and H. Ben-Shammai. Jerusalem: Yad Ben Zvi. 1996c The Jewish Community. Pp. 163–200 in The History of Jerusalem: The Early Muslim Period (638–1099), ed. J. Prawer and H. Ben-Shammai. Jerusalem: Yad Ben Zvi. Grabar, O. 1959 The Umayyad Dome of the Rock in Jerusalem. Ars Orientalis 3: 33–62. 1996 The Shape of the Holy: Early Islamic Jerusalem. Princeton: Princeton University Press. Hamilton, R. W. 1944 Excavations Against the North Wall of Jerusalem. Quarterly of the Department of Antiquities of Palestine 10: 1–54. Illife, J. H. 1935 Cemeteries and a ‘monastery’ at the Y.M.C.A., Jerusalem. QDAP 4: 70–80. Kaegi, W. E. 1992 Byzantium and the Early Islamic Conquests. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Kennedy, H. 1985 From Polis to Medina: Urban Change in Late Antiquity and Early Islamic Syria, Past and Present 106: 3–27. Kloner, A. 2000 Archaeological Survey of Israel, Survey of Jerusalem: The Southern Sector. Jerusalem: Israel Antiquities Authority. 2003 Archaeological Survey of Israel, Survey of Jerusalem: The Northwestern Sector, Introduction and Indices. Jerusalem: Israel Antiquities Authority. Kloner, A., and Bar-Nathan, R. 2007 The Eastern Cardo of Aelia Capitolina. Eretz Israel 28: 193–205. [Hebrew with English summary] Lagrange, M. J. 1894 Saint Etienne et son sanctuaire à Jérusalem. Paris: Alphonse Picard. Levy-Rubin, M. 2006 The Influence of the Muslim Conquest on the Settlement Pattern of Palestine during the Early Muslim Period. Cathedra 121: 53–78. [Hebrew] Linder, A. 1996 Christian Communities in Jerusalem. Pp. 121–62 in The History of Jerusalem—The Early Muslim Period (638–1099), ed. J. Prawer and H. Ben-Shammai. Jerusalem: Yad Ben Zvi. Macalister, R. A. S., and Duncan, J. G. 1926 Excavations on the Hill of Ophel, Jerusalem, 1923–1925. Palestine Exploration Fund Annual 4. London: Palestine Exploration Fund. Magness, J. 1991 The Walls of Jerusalem in the Early Islamic Period. Biblical Archaeologist 54: 208–17. 1992 Reexamination of the Archaeological Evidence for the Sassanian Persian Destruction of the Tyropoeon Valley. Bulletin of the American School of Oriental Research 287: 67–74. Mazar, B. 1975 The Mountain of the Lord. New York: Doubleday. Patrich, J. 1984 The Structure of the Muristan Quarter of Jerusalem in the Crusader Period. Cathedra 33: 3–17. [Hebrew]

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Prawer, J. 1947–48  The Vicissitudes of the Jewish and Karaite Quarters in Jerusalem during the Arabic Period (640–1099). Zion 12: 136–48. [Hebrew] 1991 The Jewish Community in Jerusalem in the Crusader Period. Pp. 194–212 in The History of Jerusalem, Crusaders and Ayyubids (1099–1250), ed. J. Prawer and H. Ben Shamai. Jerusalem: Yad Ben Zvi. [Hebrew] Rosen-Ayalon, M. 1989 The Early Islamic Monuments of al-Haram al-Sharīf: An Iconograhic Study. Qedem 28. Jerusalem: Hebrew University. Reich, R., and Billig, Y. 2000 Excavations Near the Temple Mount and Robinson’s Arch, 1994–1996. Pp. 340–52 in Ancient Jerusalem Revealed, ed. H. Geva. 2nd ed. Jerusalem: Israel Exploration Society. Schick, R. 1995 The Christian Communities of Palestine from Byzantine to Islamic Rule: An Historical and Archaeological Study. Studies in Late Antiquity and Early Islam 2. Princeton: The Darwin Press. Stone, M., and Amit, D. 1996 New Armenian Inscriptions from Jerusalem. Cathedra 83: 27–44. [Hebrew] Tsafrir, Y. 1977 Muqaddasi’s Gates of Jerusalem: A New Identification Based on Byzantine Sources. Israel Exploration Journal 27: 152–61. 1999 The Topography and Archaeology of Jerusalem in the Byzantine Period. Pp. 281– 352 in The History of Jerusalem: The Roman and Byzantine Periods (70–638 c.e.), ed. Y. Tsafrir and S. Safrai. Jerusalem: Yad Ben-Zvi. [Hebrew] Tsafrir, Y., and Foerster, G. 1997 Urbanism at Scythopolis: Bet-Shean in the 4th to 7th Centuries. Dumbarton Oaks Papers 51: 85–146. Tzaferis, V.; Feig, N.; Onn, A.; and Shukron, E. 2000 Excavations at the Third Wall, North of the Jerusalem Old City. Pp. 287–92 in Ancient Jerusalem Revealed, ed. H. Geva. 2nd ed. Jerusalem: Israel Exploration Society. Van Berchem, M. 1922 Matériaux pour un Corpus Inscriptionum Arabicarum, II: Jerusalem ville. Cairo: Institute Francais d’archéologie orientale. Vincent, L. H., and Abel F. -M. 1914–26  Jérusalem: Recherches de topographie, d’archéologie et d’histoire, Tome II: Jérusalem Nouvelle. Paris: Lecoffre. Ussishkin, D. 1993 The Village of Silwan: The Necropolis from the Period of the Judean Kingdom. Jerusalem: Israel Exploration Society. Weksler-Bdolah, S. 2007 The Fortification of Jerusalem in the Byzantine Period. ARAM 18–19: 85–112. Wilkinson, J. 1975 The Streets of Jerusalem. Levant 7: 18–36.

Jerusalem and the Beginnings of the Islamic City Donald Whitcomb University of Chicago

The idea of Jerusalem was fundamental in the earliest formulation of Islam, a part of the Abrahamic faith begun in the Hijaz during the early 7th century c.e. The Muslim conquests of Byzantine territory brought the Arab population to the Holy City (al-Quds) and possession of the Temple Mount (the Haram al-Sharif). The religious importance of this occupation was expressed in the building of a mosque and a shrine. While economic and administrative aspects are elements that define the foundation of an Islamic city, it was these ritual aspects that made Jerusalem the first and most important Islamic city after Medina. The urban fabric of Jerusalem in the 6th century c.e. had been altered by Justinian to accommodate great numbers of pilgrims, as part of its ritual identity within the Byzantine Empire. The form of the Late Antique city is readily recognized in the mosaic famed as the Madaba Map, usually dated ca. 580 c.e. (Donner and Cüppers 1977: Abb. VI, VII). 1 This map presents a startlingly clear urban conception (fig. 1), because it was intended as a means of instruction for pilgrims and, as such, the Church of the Holy Sepulchre becomes the focal element. The plan of the city shows the two colonnaded streets from the Damascus Gate on the north, one to the pilgrim basilica of Nea Haghia Maria and the other to the Episcopal seat of the Zion Church, each building marked by their tile roofs. If one superimposes these visible features upon a plan of the city (fig. 2), one sees an idealized circle focused on the Holy Sepulchre and an extension to the south to include the two principal churches. The walls of Jerusalem in the Madaba Map have towers and three visible gates: the western or Citadel Gate, the northern Damascus Gate, and the eastern Jericho Gate. There is no indication of a south gate, though damage to the mosaic may have obscured this feature; more importantly, there is no indication of the eastern portion of the city and especially the Temple Mount, which was consciously ignored during the Byzantine period. It seems fair to conclude from this map that the eastern and southeastern portions of Jerusalem were unimportant in the Byzantine period and probably more so during the subsequent Sasanian occupation. Scholars are taking increasing notice of the catastrophic fall of Jerusalem to the Persians in 614 c.e. The heavy cavalry of Khosrow II, the Sasanian emperor, swept across Syria, the Levant, and Egypt, not unlike the Crusader knights about 500 years later. Like these later counterparts, urban resistance provoked destruction and 1.  See also the Web site 198.62.75.1/www1/ofm/mad/index.html.

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Fig. 1.  Madaba map (after Peters 1985).

massacres; layers of burnt destruction, which archaeologists usually attributed to the Muslim conquest, are now increasingly blamed on the Persians. 2 M. Ben-Dov (1982: 239–41; 2002: 162) has suggested that the obliteration of the Nea basilica may have been a special objective of Jewish auxiliaries, who found offense in its building materials (spolia from the nearby ruins of the Temple). This attack and occupation may have been a destructive and final break with the Classical city; it was a disruption that lasted some five years until the treaty with the conquering Muslim forces (Shahid 1989: 208–43). One may expect that during the retrenchment and repopulation of Jerusalem under Heraclius, prime attention would have been paid to the western sections and their churches. Historical periodization underwent a major break with the Muslim conquest of Jerusalem in 638 c.e., signaling the end of Antiquity. The negotiated capitulation to the Muslim army and Caliph ʿUmar, with its guarantees of church and population in Jerusalem, marks a contrast to the Persian experience (Grabar 1980: 340; Peters: 1985: 185–86). There is the story, perhaps in part a pious fiction, of the archbishop Sophronius guiding the caliph over the abandoned Temple Mount, which was covered with trash and debris. It appears that Muslim belief in the ritual importance of this site and long-standing Christian disinterest made a real estate deal easily 2.  The method and impact of this invasion has recently been reassessed by Foss 2003. For Jerusalem, see pp. 152–53, 163.

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Fig. 2.  Plan of Jerusalem as shown on the Madaba map.

achieved. What follows will be an attempt to reconstruct what the early Muslims did with this and other abandoned property.

Jerusalem, an Arab City The urban plan reconstructed from the Madaba Map allows a preliminary understanding of the changes introduced in the early Islamic period. Cartography is important for evaluations of urbanism in this period. If one begins with D. Bahat’s

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Fig. 3.  Jerusalem map (after Bahat 1983: 49).

popular Carta map (1983: 49), one sees the attentions paid to the Haram al-Sharif, the contemporaneous Jewish quarter southwest of the Haram, and the Mosque of Omar sitting in a wasteland vaguely labeled “Christians” (fig. 3). The early Islamic city fairs better in Bahat’s map (1996: 81), which acknowledges a continuity in streets and an infilling of principal buildings (fig. 4). Symptomatic of this change is the complex south and west of the Haram al-Sharif, newly excavated and identified as early Islamic (see below). In fact, it is not too much to imagine new architecture spread across much of the cityscape within its walls. Some of this urban development from the time of ʿUmar’s visit (636 c.e.) until the 10th century may be deduced from the descriptions of al-Muqaddasi (ca. 985 c.e.).

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Fig. 4.  Jerusalem map (after Bahat 1996: 81).

Ahmad ibn Muhammad al-Muqaddasi wrote a masterful geography of the entire Islamic world entitled Ahsan al-Taqasim fi ma’rifat al-Aqalim (“The Best Divisions for Knowledge of the Regions”). 3 This innovative scholar devised hierarchically organized systems for each province and for each city and gives a methodological and detailed account of its features. One part of his method, perhaps a mnemonic 3.  This translation and subsequent readings follow M. J. de Goeje in the third volume of Bibliotheca Geographorum Arabicorum and the fine translation by Basil A. Colins and Mohammad Hamid Ata’i.

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Fig. 5.  Plan of Jerusalem, according to Muqaddasi.

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device, was to sequence his presentation of toponyms in a counterclockwise fashion, beginning (usually) in the southwest (fig. 5). 4 He applied this system to Jerusalem (al-Quds), which was his native city. He lists the gates of Jerusalem as: Bab Sihyun (1, near the Zion church), Bab al-Tih (or al-Nih, 2, associated with the Nea Church), Bab al-Balat (3), Bab Jubb Armiya (4), and then Bab Silwan (5). He continues the list with the gates previously seen on the Madaba Map: Bab Ariha (or Jericho Gate on the east, 6), the Bab al-Amud (or Gate of the Pillar, seen in the mosaic as the north gate, 7) and finally the Bab Mihrab Daud (or Citadel Gate on the west, 8). A curious feature of this list is immediately apparent. While the east, north, and west have only one gate each, there are five gates on the south. This concentration of gates in the southern part of the city has elicited speculations on their locations by Tsafrir (1977: 152–61) and Bahat (1986: 429–35). 5 Their debate focuses on whether the gates reverted to the inner wall of the Roman period or expanded again to the outer (Eudocian) wall in the early Islamic period. Although repair of the walls is reported under the rule of Abd al-Malik, attention to urban walls would be unusual until the Abbasid period at the earliest (Magness 1991: 208–17; Whitcomb 2006: 61–74). 6 The “iron gates” mentioned by Muqaddasi raise the question of whether these were literal structures or conceptual urban limits—that is, protected localities. The accepted location of the Jewish settlement south of the Islamic administrative quarter on the Ophel Hill would be within this urban space of Jerusalem in the Early Islamic period. 7 This distribution of “gates” in the south strongly indicates that the Early Islamic city developed this abandoned sector of the city during the first century of Islamic rule (Bahat 1996: 83). The importance of this part of the city has taken on a more vivid meaning since the excavations, between 1968 and 1978, of an “administrative compound” consisting of “six large palaces [with] wall paintings, stucco, and vast dimensions,” in the words of Rosen-Ayalon (fig. 6; 1989: 8). She has shown that this palatial complex fits with the plan of the Haram al-Sharif and original Aqsā Mosque; its date should be at least to the time of Abd al-Malik and more likely to Muʿawiya (ca. 660, see below). One of these palaces has been described as the Dar al-Imara (the governor’s residence), and another the diwan, a fiscal bureau and treasury. Ben-Dov has described a third element, the bath (hammam) with hypocausts, a caldarium of over 100 square meters, and a diwan (claimed to be similar to Kh. al-Mafjar). 8 4.  The same system may be seen in the list of the “gates” around the Haram al-Sharif (Muq. 170). The numerous gates listed by Muqaddasi for the Islamic city of Ramla follow the same pattern, as explicated by Nimrod Luz (1997) and independently by the author (Whitcomb 1995a). 5.  The present arrangement follows Bahat’s reconstruction, with the exception of placing Bab Silwan (5) near the Siloam pool. Together, these articles represent a remarkable advance on earlier studies in which gates seem to wander with remarkable abandon. 6.  Jodi Magness (1991) makes a good argument for an Abbasid date, though she ultimately opts for the reconstruction by Hisham. 7.  The argument for this location is summarized by Bahat (1996: 83) and confirmed by the recent discovery of a Hebrew inscription in the region. One may also note that extensive excavations in Ramla have failed to find substantial traces of the city wall and not one of the eight gates. 8.  More recent examination of the same area has confirmed elements of a typical bath, subfloor hypocausts and other features (Baruch 2002). The stratigraphy seems to point to a pre-Islamic date, though the relationship to Ben-Dov’s discoveries remains uncertain.

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Fig. 6.  Excavations south of Haram, 1977 (Ben-Dov 1982: 331).

With the Aqsā Mosque, one sees the four institutions typical of an Islamic city of the 8th–9th centuries. More recently, J. Magness (2010) has offered a reassessment of the archaeological history of these buildings—more valuable, in the absence of any final reports, due

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Fig. 7.  Arab urban model (after Whitcomb 2007: fig. 2).

to the inclusion of post-1995 excavations by Y. Baruch and R. Reich (1999). She suggests a later Umayyad construction based on coinage found, perhaps during the reign of Hisham, and continuation of finished buildings through the 9th century Abbasid period. 9 She notes (1992: 67–74) the suggestion of Reich and Baruch that the buildings fronted the Cardo, which may have “separated the administrative or governmental quarter from the civilian part of the town [to the west].” The key building for this interpretation is Building III, west of the largest building described 9. The substitution of the 748 c.e. earthquake for that of 1033 c.e. may not be necessary. The important implication is that the buildings probably continued into the time of Muqaddasi, though not described by the great geographer except perhaps as al-Balat (see below).

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Fig. 8.  Arab urban model applied to Jerusalem.

as the Dar al-Imara (Building II) and the axial street separating these two structures. The identification of this building as the diwan, bearing the descriptive name of al-Balat, follows a comparative study of early Islamic urban foundations. 10 If this hypothesis is accurate, the Balat of Jerusalem, proximate to the Bab al-Balat, gave its name to the Islamic urban center. 11 Ben-Dov notes the resemblance of these buildings south of the Haram to the qusur or ‘desert castles’ of Umayyad Bilad al-Sham (1971: 38). The conjunction of these large buildings with a bath suggests a locational pattern indicative of an urban, or in many cases a proto-urban, settlement type (Whitcomb 2007). If one compares Khirbat al-Mafjar, Qasr al-Hayr al-Sharqi, and ʿAnjar (fig. 7), one will notice the bath within each of these complexes bears a constant relationship in distance and direction to the ‘palace’ (or administrative center). The bathhouse is located about 50 m to the north. The ‘palace’ is proximate to the primary mosque and, further, this complex of bath/palace/mosque is located in the eastern half of the city. The western half seems to be primarily residential. A pre-Islamic and perhaps Arab aspect of this arrangement may be revealed in the very similar plan of the Nabatean town of Kurnub (Mampsis) in the Negev. There would seem to be a lo10.  The term al-Balat is explored in Whitcomb 2007. 11.  Thus, al-Balat was used by Muqaddasi as one of three synonyms for Jerusalem (with Bayt al-Maqdis and Ilya; Muq. 30).

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Fig. 9.  Reconstruction of Haram and surrounding buildings (after Bahat 1989: 82–83).

cational consistency with the north gate as well. This arrangement, and no doubt other structural elements, suggest that the planning of these Umayyad complexes was not random but in accord with a consistent plan, a conceptual model for urban organization. While the ‘desert castles’ seem to be incipient urban entities, Jerusalem reveals the completely developed manifestation of an early Islamic city (Fig. 8). Jerusalem is an exceptional phenomenon due to the massive platform, the site of the Temple and now the Haram al-Sharif. The Dome of the Rock (Qubbat al-Sakhra) stands as a continuing symbol of Jerusalem (fig. 10). This structure is a focal point for the city, architecturally based on the octagonal martyrium, popularized in the Byzantine period. What may be memorialized on the Haram al-Sharif is a vestige of Mt. Moriah, a ritual high place, a concept not unfamiliar to those coming from Arabia. For the Muslims, it was (and is) a sacred space, a haram; the qubba may commemorate the Temple and raise an awareness of apocalyptic expectations (RosenAyalon 1989). S. D. Goitein (1982: n. 22) seems to have been the first to suggest that Muʿawiya, with his special interest in Jerusalem, was the originator of the Dome of the Rock. Further, Muʿawiya may have found inspiration for this shrine in Caesarea (Qaysariya), the capital of Byzantine Palestine. Only 10 years had passed after the peaceful evacuation of the Persians from Caesarea before Muʿawiya seems to have inherited not only the physical administrative apparatus but much of the bureaucratic system as governor (ca. 640 c.e.) (Whitcomb, in press). As Magness has shown (1994), the Octagonal Building on the

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Fig. 10.  The Dome of the Rock.

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Fig. 11.  Octagonal church at Caesarea (Holum 1999: fig. 13).

Fig. 12.  Comparison of octagonal buildings at same scale.

Temple Platform dominated the skyline of early Islamic Qaysariya well into the 8th century, if not later (fig. 11). A comparison of their plans suggests that this complex may have inspired Muʿawiya to reproduce such a building on the platform of the Haram al-Sharif (fig. 12). 12 This antecedent at Caesarea may corroborate the forceful, if speculative, argument by O. Grabar (1990: 156; 1996: 115) that the concept of the Dome of the Rock may be attributed to Muʿawiya, while the building was then finished by his successor Abd al-Malik in 692 c.e. (fig. 6). It may be coincidental—but of great interest—that south of the Temple Platform of Caesarea were 12.  It is ironic that the identity or purpose of the shrine known as the Octagonal Building is quite uncertain.

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Fig. 13.  Jerusalem, axial grid and communities.

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buildings described as a bath, a palace, and a tax office (skrinion, functionally not unlike the diwan). 13 The political role of Jerusalem for Muʿawiya seems to have been an exceptional phase, for the city was only briefly, if ever, the political capital for Filastin. Rather, this city was, and for many still is, the apex of a sacral hierarchy of holy places (Wheatley 2001: 92–94). Its political balance was Ramla; this was a situation not unlike the dichotomy of Mecca and Madina, the political and sacral centers in the Hijaz. Jerusalem may have received more careful planning consideration as a reflection of cosmological order. The Aqsā Mosque was located south of this central maidan of the city and in axial orientation with the Dome and street below the platform, as Myriam Rosen-Ayalon first noticed. Alternatively, the Dome of the Rock may be taken as a nodal center (a sort of tetrapylon) marking the axial juncture to the south and west, what might have been principal directions within the new Islamic city (fig. 13). The Haram with its two structures, the Dome of the Rock and Aqsā Mosque, may be seen as one ritual complex, and in a wider context, elements in a wider plan of a ritual city. That the tetrapylon became a shrine may indicate the special character of this city, location of one of the three mosques important for Islam and an omphalos of the universe (Wheatley 2001: 295–8).

Conclusions Goitein (1982: 175) has described the Arab imigration into early Islamic Jerusalem as a Yemenite colony, and at the same time states that Jerusalem never became an “Arab city.” On the contrary, the patterns delineated here suggest that just such an urban identity was imposed on the southern and eastern portions of the ancient city. Grabar (1996: 157–61) suggests that Muʿawiya’s impulse might stem from an Arabian context; as he puts it, “much too easily we have all assumed that Arabia was forgotten once the visual riches of the conquered lands became available,” yet this cultural background was not confined to the oases and tribes but should include the cities of south Arabia. The “Arab city” was a settlement pattern of some antiquity in South Arabia, a pattern that introduces important complications to the traditional conception of tribal settlement in Arabia (Whitcomb 1995b: 38–51). One may suggest that there was an Arabian concept of urbanism that proved appropriate as the material referent for the theocratic state, which began in the Hijaz in the early 7th century and continued as the evolving expression of an Islamic settlement. Conrad (n.d.: 22) has observed, with apparent surprise, that early Islamic foundations “differ from the traditional Arabian tribal settlement . . . [in that] implicit in all of [these settlements] was the notion of a genuine town center, already a major departure from the traditional norm.” The model advanced herein emphasizes the primacy of the mosque and palace complex in new Islamic foundations and that this nucleation of a “genuine town center” is an innovation characteristic of the incipient Islamic state. 13.  This complex is discussed in light of this putative antecedent for the role of the Balat in Whitcomb 2007: 20–21.

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Fig. 14.  Aerial photo of Jerusalem from the south (Peters 1985).

The plan of Jerusalem in the early Islamic period is a twin city (fig. 13) in that the Christian town with its religious foci remained inviolate on the west and the eastern and southeastern sections formed a new Muslim city. 14 New religious structures dominated the high platform of the Haram al-Sharif, administrative facilities were clustered in large buildings south of the Haram, and a bath was located along 14.  The example of Jerusalem is not recognized by P. Wheatley, who has an interesting discussion of the tendency for early Islamic cities to develop two separate entities, often on ethnic lines; see Wheatley 2001: 322–26 .

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the old Cardo, which may have formed the primary locus of economic activity (i.e., the suq). Muslim residential areas may have been located to the west of the Cardo, spreading perhaps to the south. Located literally under the protection of the governmental center was probably the Jewish community, returned to the ancient City of David (fig. 14). The evidence for Jerusalem in the early Islamic period, whether or not the specific model for the Arabian city finds acceptance, indicates that the Aqsā Mosque and the Dome of the Rock were elements in a larger conception of an Islamic city. The city was exceptional in its importance for this new religion and subjected to a new experimental development. This religious community strove for a structural setting to express the living of this new faith and to create relationships with past and contemporaneous religious communities in this Holy Land.

References Bahat, D. 1983 Carta’s Historical Atlas of Jerusalem: An Illustrated Survey. Jerusalem: Carta. 1986 Les portes de Jérusalem selon Mukaddasi: Nouvelle identification. Revue biblique 93: 429–35. 1996 The Illustrated Atlas of Jerusalem. Jerusalem: Carta. Baruch, Y. 2002 Jerusalem: the Old City. Excavations and Surveys in Israel 114, 75*–76* [89–92]. Baruch, Y., and Reich, R. 1999 Renewed Excavations at the Umayyad Building III. Pp. 128–40 in New Studies on Jerusalem: Proceedings of the Fifth Conference, Dec. 23, 1999, ed. A. Faust and E. Baruch. Ramat Gan: Bar-Ilan University Press. Ben-Dov, M. 1971 The Omayyad Structures near the Temple Mount. Pp. 37–44 in The Excavations in the Old City of Jerusalem near the Temple Mount: Second Preliminary Report 1969–70 Seasons, ed. B. Mazar. Jerusalem. 1976 The Area South of the Temple Mount in the Early Islamic Period. Pp. 97–101 in Jerusalem Revealed: Archaeology in the Holy City 1968–1974, ed. Y. Yadin. New Haven: Yale University Press. 1982 In the Shadow of the Temple: The Discovery of Ancient Jerusalem. Jerusalem: Keter. 2002 Historical Atlas of Jerusalem. New York: Continuum. Conrad, L. I. n.d. The Early Arab Urban Foundations in Iraq and Egypt: Implications for Trade and Exchange, in The Byzantine and Early Islamic Near East V: Trade and Exchange, ed. L. I. Conrad and G. R. D. King. (forthcoming). Donner, H., and Cüppers, H. 1977 Die Mosaikkarte von Madeba, pt. 1. Wiesbaden: Otto Harrassowitz. Foss, C. 2003 Persians in the Roman East (602–630 a.d.). Journal of the Royal Asiatic Society 3: 149–70. Goitein, S. D. 1982 Jerusalem in the Arab period (638–1099). Pp. 168-96 in vol. 2 of The Jerusalem Cathedra, ed. L. I. Levine. Detroit: Wayne State University Press Grabar, O. 1980 al-Kuds: B. Monuments, The Encyclopedia of Islam. 2nd edition. Leiden: Brill.

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1990 The Meaning of the Dome of the Rock. Pp. 151–63 in Studies in Arab History: The Antonius lectures, 1978–87, ed. D. Hopwood. Oxford: Clarendon. 1996 The Shape of the Holy: Early Islamic Jerusalem. Princeton: Princeton University Press. Luz, N. 1997 Construction of an Islamic City in Palestine. The Case of Umayyad al-Ramla. Journal of the Royal Asiatic Society 7: 27–54. Magness, J. 1991 The Walls of Jerusalem in the Early Islamic Period. Biblical Archaeologist 54: 208–17. 1992a Reexamination of the Archaeological Evidence for the Sasanian Persian Destruction of the Tyropoeon Valley. Bulletin of the American Schools of Oriental Research 287: 67–74. 1994 The Pottery from Area V/4 at Caesarea. Annual of the American Schools of Oriental Research 52, 133-45. 2010 Early Islamic Urbanism and Building Activity in Jerusalem and at Hammath Gader. Pp. 147–63 Money, Exchange and the Economy in the First Century of Islam: An Interdisciplinary Review of Current Debates, ed. J. Haldon. Burlington, VT: Ashgate. al-Muqaddasi, Muhammad ibn Ahmad 1906 Kitab Ahsan al-Taqasim fi Ma’rifat al-Aqalim. M. de Goeje, ed. Bibliotheca Geographorum Arabicorum, vol. 3, 2nd ed. Leiden: Brill. 1994 The Best Divisions for Knowledge of the Regions: A Translation of Ahsan al-Taqasim fi ma’rifat al-aqalim. B. A. Collins and M. H. al-Tai. Reading: Garnet. Peters, F. E. 1985 Jerusalem: The Holy city in the Eyes of Chroniclers, Visitors, Pilgrims, and Prophets from the Days of Abraham to the Beginnings of Modern Times. Princeton: Princeton University Press. Rosen-Ayalon, M. 1989 The Early Islamic Monuments of al-Haram al-Sharif: An Iconographic Study. Qedem 28. Jerusalem: Hebrew University. Shahid, I. 1989 Heraclius and the Theme System: Further Observations. Byzantion 59: 208–43. Tsafrir, Y. 1977 Muqaddasi’s Gates of Jerusalem: A new Identification Based on Byzantine Sources. Israel Exploration Journal 27: 152–61. Wheatley, P. 2001 The Places Where Men Pray Together: Cities in Islamic lands, Seventh through the Tenth Centuries. Chicago: University of Chicago Press. Whitcomb, D. 1995a Islam and the Socio-Cultural Transition of Palestine, Early Islamic Period (638– 1099 c.e.). Pp. 488–501 in The Archaeology of Society in the Holy Land, ed. T. Levy. London: Pinter. 1995b Urbanism in Arabia. Arabian Archaeology and Epigraphy 7: 38 –51. 2006 The Walls of Early Islamic Ayla: Defence or Symbol? Pp. 61–74 in Muslim Military Architecture in Greater Syria, from the Coming of Islam to the Ottoman period, ed. H. Kennedy. Leiden: Brill. 2007 An Urban Structure for the Early Islamic City: An Archaeological Hypothesis. Pp. 15–26 in Cities in the Pre-modern Islamic World: The Urban Impact of Religion, State and Society, ed. A. K. Bennison and A. L. Gascoigne. London: SOAS/Routledge. 2011 Qaysarea as an Early Islamic Settlement. Pp. 65–82 in Shaping the Middle East: Christians, Jews, and Muslims in an Age of Transition, ca. 400–800 c.e, ed. K. G. Holum and H. Lapin. Bethesda, MD: University Press of Maryland.

Early Islamic and Medieval City Walls of Jerusalem in Light of New Discoveries Shlomit Weksler-Bdolah Israel Antiquities Authority

Jerusalem’s present city wall was constructed by the Ottoman sultan Suleiman the Magnificent during the second quarter of the 16th century. The wall, about 4.5 km long, is in a good state of preservation and incorporates six monumental city gates, on which the Sultan’s building inscriptions were preserved. A common legend recounts that the two architects of the wall were killed by the sultan for not incorporating Mount Zion within the circumference of the wall. Nevertheless, archaeological remains indicate that the route of the Ottoman wall was dictated not only by the will of the sultan or his architects but also by topographic considerations and by the size of the city when the walls were built. Remains of the stillvisible medieval fortifications, which the Ottoman wall followed, also played an important role in the decisions of its builders. More than 40 archaeological excavations have been conducted along the perimeter of the Ottoman city wall. They have exposed remains of ancient walls from various periods under or next to the foundations of the Ottoman wall. The ancient walls date to the periods of the First Temple (Late Iron Age, 8th–6th centuries b.c.e.) and Second Temple (Late Hellenistic–Early Roman periods, the 2nd century b.c.e.–first century c.e.) and to the Late Roman–Early Byzantine periods (4th– 5th centuries), to the Early Islamic period (8th–11th centuries), and to the Middle Ages (12th–13th centuries). The ancient fortifications were either incorporated into the route of the Ottoman wall or used as a source for building materials. 1 Between 1999 and 2003, archaeological excavations were carried out at seven different places inside and outside the northwestern part of the Ottoman city wall. The excavations, on behalf of the Israel Antiquities Authority, were directed by the author. 2 The addition of the newly discovered finds to the data known from Author’s Note:  This article is dedicated to the memory of Giora Parnos, a dear friend and colleague. Giora co-directed the extensive excavations near Herod’s Gate, inside the northeastern wall of Jerusalem (Baruch, Avni, and Parnos 2008) while I was digging around the northwestern parts of the walls, and we held long and fruitful discussions about the city’s fortifications that contributed greatly to the formation of my point of view, presented below. May his memory be blessed. 1.  The fortifications of Jerusalem in the various periods have been studied and discussed at length in the research literature since the end of the 19th century. See the general works of Bieberstein and Bloedhorn (1994), Bahat (1990), and Wightman (1993). For the city’s fortifications in the Roman–Byzantine period, see Tsafrir 1999a; 1999b; Geva 1993a; 1993b, and Weksler-Bdolah 2003; 2006–7; 2007. For the Early Islamic and medieval periods, see Bahat 1990; Magness 1991; and Ben-Dov 1992. Other studies are referred to in the body of the article. 2.  The salvage excavations were conducted because of development needs inside and outside the Old City walls. Preliminary and final reports of the findings have been published in Hadashot

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Fig. 1.  Jerusalem in the Madaba mosaic map.

previous excavations and from historical sources makes it possible to offer a new proposal with regard to the development of the fortifications around the northwestern part of Jerusalem. In a previous work (Weksler-Bdolah 2006–7 and also 2007), I dealt in detail with the remains of the Roman–Byzantine wall 3 around Jerusalem. This article aims to address the development of the Early Islamic wall, after the Roman–Byzantine wall was abandoned, and the later incarnations of this line until the construction of the present wall in the Ottoman period. A brief summary of Jerusalem’s fortifications prior to the construction of the Early Islamic wall follows, after which the remains of the Early Islamic and medieval fortifications will be discussed. Arkheologiyot and ʿAtiqot. I wish to thank the Israel Antiquities Authority for permission to publish this information here. The plans that appear in this article were prepared by the Surveying Department of the Israel Antiquities Authority and drafted by Natalia Zak. The photographs were taken by Tzilla Sagiv, Marianna Saltzberger, and the author. I wish to thank my colleagues at the Israel Antiquities Authority and the Hebrew University who assisted me during the course of the excavations: Miriam Avissar (processing and publication of the ceramics), Jon Seligman, Zvi Greenhut, and Gideon Solimany of the Jerusalem Region of the Israel Antiquities Authority for their frequent visits to the sites during the excavations and for the discussions we had. I would also like to express my gratitude to Gideon Avni, Hillel Geva, Dan Bahat, and Reuven Amitai for their helpful comments when I proposed my conclusions to them. 3.  I used the term “Roman–Byzantine wall” in order to summarize the various proposals that have been made in the past on the date of construction of the wall and its usage.

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Fig. 2.  The Roman– Byzantine city wall (after Tsafrir 2000, Weksler-Bdolah 2006–7). Dots mark places where segments of the Roman–Byzantine wall were exposed.

The Madaba mosaic map of the 6th century (Avi-Yonah 1954; Tsafrir 1999c) portrays Jerusalem as enclosed within an extensive wall, which, in addition to the area of the Old City, also encircles the City of David, the Ophel, and Mount Zion (fig. 1). Many segments of that wall, which is usually referred to as the Roman– Byzantine wall, were exposed under the courses of the northern and western lines of the Ottoman wall, around Mount Zion, and on the Ophel (figs. 2–4). 4 The fact 4.  Remains of the Roman–Byzantine wall were exposed under the Ottoman wall on both sides of the Damascus gate (Hamilton 1944; Turler, De Groot, and Solar 1979; Avni, Baruch, and WekslerBdolah 2001), near the Western-Jaffa Gate (Sion and Puni 2011), under the courses of the western Ottoman wall near David’s Tower in the citadel ( Johns 1950; Geva 1983), and south to Jaffa Gate in the “Armenian Garden” (Tushingham 1985), and also around the slopes of Mount Zion (Bliss and Dickie 1894; Chen, Margalit, and Pixner 1994, and the recent excavation of Zelinger 2007, 2010) and on the Ophel (Warren and Conder 1884; Mazar 2007). All known segments are built in a similar way, characterized by ashlar courses laid above the fieldstone foundations or directly on bedrock. The lower courses were laid in a stepped manner, so that every course was set back

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Fig. 3.  The Roman– Byzantine wall near Damascus Gate (after Hamilton 1944).

that nowhere along the northwestern and the northeastern corners of the Ottoman Wall were remains of the “Roman–Byzantine” wall exposed supports previous suggestions (Vincent and Abel 1914; Tsafrir 1999a) that the “Roman–Byzantine” wall’s route encompassed a smaller area in the northern parts of the city than the Ottoman wall (fig. 2). Accordingly, the northwestern branch of the wall extended northward along the line of the wall that abuts David’s Tower ( Johns 1950; Wall XIV, figs. 19, 23; Geva 1983: 67). From there, it is presumed to continue along a segment of an ancient wall that was documented at the end of the 19th century beneath the Imperial Hotel, inside Jaffa Gate (Merrill 1886). Another small segment was later revealed by Sion and Puni (2011). Its continuation northward apparently passed within the current Old City, along the topographic ridge, or next to it, until it reached the line of the northern Ottoman wall. The northern line of the Roman– Byzantine wall was exposed in many places under the central part of the northern Ottoman wall to a distance of ca. 110 m east of Herod’s Gate (see above, n. 4). At this point the line of the Roman–Byzantine wall probably turned southeast and ran along the course of the Bezetha Valley toward the Temple Mount. in relation to the course it overlaid, whereas the upper courses of the wall were laid vertically one above the other. For a detailed study of the remains, see Weksler-Bdolah (2006–7) and references there.

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Fig. 4.  The Roman– Byzantine Ophel wall in the Ophel Excavations (after Mazar 2007: fig. 17.14). Courtesy of E. Mazar.

The Abandonment of the Roman–Byzantine Wall and the Construction of a New Line of Fortifications in the Late Early Islamic Period (Late 10th–Early 11th Century) The precise date of the abandonment of the Roman–Byzantine wall is difficult to determine. Archaeological finds and historical sources indicate a date around the late 10th or early 11th century c.e. Ceramic finds and coins in earthen layers that abut the wall indicate that the Roman–Byzantine wall was used continuously from the time of its construction until the mid-8th century, after which it was partially damaged, probably by an earthquake (Weksler-Bdolah 2007: 97). Evidence of renovations discovered in several places along its route indicate that the wall continued to be used after the mid-8th century. In 870 c.e., the monk Bernard (Bernardus Monachus) described the Zion Church and the Church of St. Peter in Gallicantu

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on Mount Zion as being located within the city (Tobler 1874), thus indicating that at this time the Roman–Byzantine wall was still being used. The archaeological remains of some Early Islamic buildings of the 8th and 9th centuries on the Ophel–– outside the present line of the city walls (Ben Ami and Tchehanovetz 2008) support the assumption that this area was included within the city’s domain at that time, thus indicating that the Roman–Byzantine wall was still being used. Finally, Muqaddasi’s description from 985 c.e. (quoted in le Strange 1890: 212–13) enumerates eight gates within the walls of the city and has been interpreted in the past as referring to the new, shorter line of the city wall that was built on the route of the Ottoman wall (Tsafrir 1977). However, it is possible that Muqaddasi described the Roman–Byzantine city wall that was still in use at the time of his writing (Ben-Dov 1993; Bahat 1986; 2003). In June 1099, the Crusaders conquered Jerusalem after a long siege. The description of the blockade in the Crusader chronicles indicates that the wall they faced followed a route similar to the present Ottoman walls. It appears, therefore, that during the late 10th or early 11th century, at some time before the Crusaders’ conquest of Jerusalem, the Roman–Byzantine wall was abandoned, and a new, Early Islamic line of walls was erected around Jerusalem. The late Early Islamic (either Abbasid or Fatimid) wall enlarged the city’s area in its northwestern and northeastern corners, whereas in the south, the size of the city was significantly reduced, with the City of David, the Ophel, and Mount Zion left outside the walls. The northern fortifications of Jerusalem, according the chronicles (Hagenmayer 1889–90: Gesta 37,3), consisted of an external moat, a forewall, and an inner, main wall. The “outer wall” was sometimes named barbikan or murus minor—that is, “the little wall,” and the inner, main wall was referred to in the sources as murus maior – “the large wall” or “the inner ancient walls.” 5 Tsafrir (1977: 154) suggested dating the construction of the new Early Islamic wall to the Abbasid period in the late 10th century. A different suggestion has been made by Prawer (1985; 1991) and by Bahat (2003: 63 n. 7), who related the construction of the wall to the Fatimid rulers following the probable destruction of the Roman–Byzantine wall in the earthquake of 1033. Prawer and Bahat relied on historical sources, which attest to the construction and repair of a wall in Jerusalem between 1033 and 1063 (Prawer 1991: 5). Yahya Ibn Saʿid of Antioch, for example, described the renovation of Jerusalem’s walls during the reign of the Early Islamic Sultan al-Zahir. He specifically mentioned that “the officers in charge intended to destroy the church of Mount Zion, as well as other churches, so as to bring their stones to the wall.” 6 It is therefore apparent that the new perimeter left the churches on Mount Zion outside the new line of the walls (Prawer 1985: 2; 1991: 5). Furthermore, the testimony by Nasir-i-Khusraw, from the year 1047, 7 describes 5.  See Wightman 1993: 246–48. For a detailed study of the Crusaders siege and conquest of Jerusalem and reference to the sources, see Prawer 1991: Maps 1–3, 8, 10, 16. Earlier studies include Röhricht 1901: 183–214; Peyré 1859). 6.  Annals Yahia ibn Said Antiochensis (CSCO; Scriptores Arabici, Textus, Series 3, vii; Paris, 1909) 272. 7.  Nasir-I-khusraw, Relation de Voyage, trans. C. Scheffer (Paris, 1881).

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Fig. 5.  Jerusalem’s city walls from the Early Islamic period to the Ottoman period (after Seligman 2001 and Weksler-Bdolah 2011).

Jerusalem as a city surrounded by formidable walls and mentions the Siloam Pool as located some distance outside the city wall.

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Fig. 6.  Hewn moat under the Ottoman northern wall, east of the Damascus Gate. Looking east.

The Archaeological Remains of the Late Abbasid-Fatimid Line of Fortifications and of the Later Medieval Fortifications around the Northern Parts of Jerusalem Outside and parallel to the northern parts of the Ottoman walls runs a deep moat that is mostly carved in bedrock (fig. 5). The moat is ca. 14–20 m wide, and it is more than 9 m deep. The steep sides of this hewn moat are partially visible above the present surface, especially around the northern and the northeastern corner of the wall (figs. 6–7). Various scholars have studied the moat, relating it to the moat that the Crusaders described, and have noted its Early Islamic origin. 8 In many places, remains of an adjoining wall that is built on the inner edge of the moat were uncovered. The current Ottoman wall is either built directly atop the edge of the moat and its adjoining wall or parallel to it, at a distance of 4–10 m inside its perimeter. Wightman (1993: 246–57 n. 67, fig. 77) has described the results of investigation of the moat and its adjoining wall and correctly (in my opinion) ascribed them to the Early Islamic forewall that the Crusaders besieged. To Wightman’s list 8.  The earliest documentation of the moat appears in Peyré 1859, who noted the remains of a moat and an adjoining external wall between Tancred’s Tower and Lions Gate. The moat was marked on the map prepared later also by Kuemmel (1906) and in later works (see summary in Prawer 1991: 12–13 nn 42–43; Wightman 1993: 246–57).

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Fig. 7.  Hewn moat under the Ottoman northeastern corner of wall, looking west.

of features I would add the new materials exposed in the recent excavations; in what follows, I summarize briefly, starting from Jaffa gate and moving clockwise, the segmental remains of the Roman–Byzantine, Early Islamic, and medieval fortifications that are known under or next to the northern line of the wall. 9 1.  Along the outside of the Ottoman wall, from Jaffa Gate to the northwest and ca. 6.25 m away from it, the outer face of an ancient wall was exposed for a distance of ca.110 m (fig. 5.1; fig. 8a–b; Goldfuss 1984: 33–35; Maeir 2000; Reich and Shukron 1995: 82, fig. 89; 2006; Reich 2008). At one spot only, its full width, 3.2 m, was exposed. The wall is built of leveled courses of medium-size roughly hewn stones joined with gray bonding material. Next to Jaffa Gate, the ancient wall is built over the remains of a Byzantine bathhouse and is sealed beneath the Ottoman Jaffa Gate tower. Some 50 m northwest of Jaffa Gate, the wall is built above a Byzantine or Umayyad aqueduct that conveyed water into the city. A road extended next to the aqueduct, and on the other side of it, a Byzantine–Umayyad building with shops was exposed (Maeir 2000). These shops were subsequently damaged when a broad, deep channel, which has been identified as a dry moat, was dug outside the city 9.  Remains known before 1993 are discussed by Wightman (1993: 246–57) and are briefly summarized here. New finds are presented in detail.

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Fig. 8a.  The ancient wall outside of Jaffa Gate, looking northwest.

wall (ibid.). The moat was dated to the latter part of the Early Islamic period or the Crusader period (11th–13th centuries c.e.) and Maeir suggested that it had been connected to the ancient wall that ran parallel to the course of the Ottoman wall. It should be mentioned that Maeir (2000) identified the deep channel as a moat prior to the exposure of the wall itself in this spot. An extensive tract that connected the former areas and expanded them to the north has been excavated by Reich and Shukron. In the northern part of their dig, only the wall’s foundation, hewn into the bedrock in the shape of a vertical wall, survived, as did a square, hewn tower that jutted outward some 7 m from it. At the foot of the wall, leveled bedrock floor was discovered, and a narrow rock-hewn staircase runs along the wall and leads from the floor to the tower. The excavators (Reich and Shukron 2006: 19) point out the similarity between the vertical hewn foundation of the wall they exposed and the hewn walls of the Early Islamic moat that is well-known elsewhere around the northern Ottoman wall. However, they do not believe that there was a hewn moat in this spot, because the natural bedrock at that place is precipitous enough to protect the city. I would suggest identifying this hewn foundation of the wall as part of the Early Islamic moat that from this spot onward was carved in bedrock, whereas south of this spot, it was probably dug through the Byzantine and Umayyad remains, as Maeir has suggested. Moreover, the words of the 13th-century Burkhardt

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Fig. 8b.  The ancient wall outside of Jaffa Gate, looking northwest.

of Zion underscore this view: “the second valley that breaks off the same Tower of David . . . leads northward and serves as the moat of the city from the west, all along the western side, up to its northern end.” 10 Based on a 13th-century coin that was discovered in the wall’s foundation trench, Reich and Shukron (2006; Reich 2008) ascribed the building of the wall to the Ayyubid period. However, Goldfuss (1984: 33–35) identified two components in the ancient wall, suggesting that the upper component was the Ayyubid wall, whereas the lower component could either be its foundation, or an earlier, Byzantine wall. 11 Maeir (above) dated the dry moat, which was connected to the wall, to the late Early Islamic or the Crusader period (11th–13th centuries). At the foot of the wall, a large stone collapse was exposed, indicating a deliberate destruction of the wall, and the excavators (Reich and Shukron) have suggested ascribing the destruction of the wall to the Ayyubid sultan Al-Malik Al-Muʾazzam ʿIsa, who, according to historical sources and supported by archaeological discoveries, ordered the fortifications of Jerusalem demolished in 1219 (Broshi 1987) 10.  Laurent 1864: VII, p. 65. 11.  The Byzantine date is unlikely, in my opinion, because (a) the “Jaffa Gate” wall is located a long distance, ca. 60 m, west of the route of the Roman–Byzantine wall; and (b) its method of construction differs from that of the Roman–Byzantine wall.

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Fig. 9.  The core of the city wall above the hewn moat.

Based on the shape and location of the wall, as well as its alignment with the edge of the moat and its similarity to other wall segments related to the Early Islamic forewall (Segments 2–6, below), I suggest ascribing the wall and the moat that was dug and hewn along its outside to the Early Islamic forewall. The wall was continuously used and was probably renovated until its destruction in the early 13th century. 2.  Approximately 100 m northwest of the aforementioned wall section, along the same route (fig. 5.2), another segment of the same wall was partially uncovered. 12 The wall’s outer, western face had been robbed in antiquity, and all that 12.  Salvage excavations on behalf of the Israel Antiquities Authority, directed by the author, were carried out in 2002 before construction of a traffic tunnel around the northwestern corner of the Old City (Weksler-Bdolah forthcoming).

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remains of it is the core, which was built of medium-size fieldstones cemented with hard, gray bonding material (fig. 9). The width of the wall at this spot is unknown. It was aligned in a southeast–northwest direction and has been exposed for a distance of ca. 10 m. It was built above and in line with the vertical edge of the rockhewn moat, which slopes steeply westward. The fill in the moat at the foot of the wall was excavated to a maximum depth of ca. 6 m without reaching bottom. The fill contained numerous fragments of pottery vessels that date from the 12th–13th centuries to the Ottoman period. It is worth noting that, at the end of the 19th century, a larger segment of the same wall was seen above the surface and was documented (Schick 1889b: 63). 3.  About 220 m northwest of Jaffa Gate and ca. 8–10 m east of the wall segment described above (no. 2), the Ottoman wall zigzags above the external southern and western walls of a square tower 11.80 m × 11.80 m that forms part of an earlier fortification (Weksler-Bdolah 2001; 2006; Weksler-Bdolah and Avissar forthcoming). The tower was incorporated in an ancient city wall whose courses were preserved under the courses of the Ottoman wall (fig. 5.3; figs.10a, 10b). 13 The tower is built of large ashlar stones arranged in leveled courses and bonded with a gray cement. The dressing of the stones is rough, and the cornerstones are dressed with drafted margins made with a multi-pointed hammer and have a rough, prominent boss. A floor that abutted the tower’s eastern wall helped date the tower to the Ayyubid period (the late 12th or early 13th century). Moreover, its shape and mode of construction, which are similar to some Ayyubid towers known in the southern part of the city (below, nos. 17–23), also support this date. It is worth noting however, that it is much smaller than the southern towers—about half their size. The city wall that incorporates the tower seemed to be slightly later than the tower itself. 4.  An ancient wall was exposed in Zahal Square, ca. 3 m outside of and parallel to the contour of the northwestern corner of the Ottoman city wall. This wall was built along the edge of a rock-hewn moat 19 m wide and more than 9 m deep (Bahat and Ben-Ari 1975) (Fig. 5:4). The wall encompasses a large tower (ca. 35 m × 35 m) that dates to the Middle Ages. It is traditionally identified with Tancred’s Tower or Qasr Jalud, which is known from medieval historical sources. The northern side of the tower is today exposed at the base on the outer side of the Ottoman city wall, while most of it is located inside the Ottoman wall, beneath the Collège des Frères. 14 Bahat and Ben-Ari (1975) noted that the tower and the wall that encompasses it are contemporaneous, and proposed dating both to the Crusader period. Later, Bahat suggested a later date of construction for the tower––the Ayyubid 13.  The southeastern corner of the tower was exposed in the courtyard of the Knight’s Palace Hotel on the inside of the Ottoman city wall. See Weksler-Bdolah 2001; 2006; and also WekslerBdolah and Avissar forthcoming. The western wall of the ancient tower was exposed in the foundation of the Ottoman wall in excavations that were carried out on the outside of the city wall. See Weksler-Bdolah 2006. 14.  Remains of the tower inside the Ottoman wall have been a topic of discussion by a multitude of scholars from the 19th century onward: see de Saulcy 1865: 427–32; Wilson 1865: 73–74; Warren and Conder 1884: 264–67; Schick 1878: 15–23 ; Vincent 1913: 88–96; Vincent 1927: 516–48. The various views were recently summarized by Seligman (2002: 80–83).

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Fig. 10a.  Southeast corner of the Knights’ Palace tower, looking north.

Fig. 10b.  Southwest corner of the Knight’s Palace tower prior to excavation, looking east. Top of the tower is visible at the surface, under the Ottoman wall.

period. 15 It therefore appears that the tower at this spot was built later than the encompassing wall and moat. 5.  A sounding conducted along the outside of the Ottoman city wall, ca. 23 m northeast of the New Gate, discovered that the wall here was built above a hewn bedrock cliff that slopes sharply northward and serves as the side of the above-mentioned moat (Weksler-Bdolah 2005: Area B; 2011: 73*, 105–7; here, fig. 5:5; fig. 11). The fill in the moat was excavated to a depth of approximately 2 m without reaching bottom. At the base of the Ottoman wall, atop the edge of the moat, the courses of an ancient wall were exposed. They are built of large stones whose surfaces are roughly hewn, between which are smaller stones, cemented with gray bonding 15.  I wish to thank Prof. Dan Bahat, who shared his conclusions with me and has allowed me to quote them.

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Fig. 11.  The New Gate Excavations, Area B: the foundation of the Early Islamic city wall above the hewn moat. Looking east.

material. The courses of the Ottoman wall overlays them, utilizing relatively small, square stones with a smooth surface. 6. Some 40 m northeast of the New Gate, the direction of the Ottoman wall changes slightly. A small-scale excavation was conducted at this spot next to the outside of the wall (Weksler-Bdolah 2005: Area D; 2011: 73*, 108–10; here, fig. 5.6; fig.12). Here, too, it was ascertained that the Ottoman wall superposes the courses of an ancient wall, which are built in line with and above the side of the hewn moat. A vertical seam, which indicates a repair that was made to the wall after its construction, was discerned in the line of the ancient wall. West of the seam, the wall is built of large fieldstones with a roughly hewn surface, while east of it the wall is built of medium-size dressed stones that have a smooth surface. Some of the stones in the ancient wall are in secondary use. Here, as elsewhere (below, no. 10),

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Fig. 12.  The New Gate Excavations, Area D: the foundation of the Early Islamic city wall above the hewn moat, coated with ashlars. Looking east.

the upper part of the moat’s escarpment is lined with square, medium-size ashlars. The moat was excavated to a depth of 4 m without reaching bedrock. 7.  Seventy meters northeast of the New Gate, the course of the Ottoman wall turns southeast for a distance of 7.5 m, where it straightens out in a northeasterly direction. In an excavation conducted around that corner of the Ottoman wall (Weksler-Bdolah 2005: Area C; 2011: 73*–74*, 110–17; here, fig. 5.7; fig. 13), it was determined that the turn of the Ottoman wall marks the place where the Ottoman wall diverges from the line of the earlier fortification––that is, the line of the moat and the Early Islamic forewall atop its edge. The foundation of a square rock-hewn tower that jutted outside the line of the forewall was exposed under the corner of

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Fig. 13.  The New Gate Excavations, Area C: the foundation of the Ottoman wall above the remains of a hewn tower. Looking southeast.

the Ottoman wall. It became apparent that, unlike the forewall, which continued beyond the tower running northeast along the same line, the Ottoman wall turned southeast along the eastern wall of the tower and continued northeast, paralleling the forewall, at a distance of ca. 5–10 m inside its line. 8.  Sections of a wall built on the edge of the hewn moat were documented at the end of the 19th century approximately 4–5 m outside a prominent corner (below, no. 9) of the Ottoman wall (Finn 1889; Schick 1889b: Plan of Jerusalem, D; Schick 1895). The wall cannot be seen today, but it is possible to identify it as a segment of the Early Islamic forewall, along the same line as segments 5, 6, and 7 (above). The course of the forewall circumvents the corner of the Ottoman wall and is parallel to it (fig. 5.8). A square tower was documented in the corner of the ancient forewall.

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Fig. 14.  The New Gate Excavations, Area A: the Ottoman wall above the Medieval tower. Looking south.

It juts out from the line of the wall and south of it is a narrow gate that may be a postern (according to a proposal by C. Schick and Finn, above). Hewn steps lead from that gate to the bottom of the moat. 9. An excavation was conducted around a protruding corner of the Ottoman wall, ca. 130 m northeast of the New Gate, where the Ottoman wall turns southeast for a distance of ca. 40 m and then straightens out in a northeasterly direction (Weksler-Bdolah 2005: Area A; 2011: 74*, 117–25; here, fig. 5.9). The Ottoman wall follows and is based directly atop the walls of a massive medieval tower (figs. 14–15). The foundations of the medieval tower were set on the natural bedrock, and its walls are built of large square stones, with drafted margins (made with a multi-pointed hammer) and a prominent boss. The size of the tower is estimated at

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Fig. 15.  The New Gate Excavations, Area A: A closer look at the lower courses of the Crusader /Ayyubid tower (possibly St. Lazarus’ Postern?). Looking south.

ca. 23 m × 23 m, 16 and it was dated to the late 12th or early 13th centuries (based on the latest finds that were recovered from the foundation trench of the tower’s eastern wall). It was not possible to decide whether the tower was constructed during the late Crusader period or during the Ayyubid period. The tower’s mode of construction, however, is similar to the construction type found in the Ayyubid towers along the southern wall (below 17–23) and along the northwestern corner of the wall (above 3, 4). The location of the medieval tower in a prominent corner of the city wall and its proximity to the postern that was identified in the Early Islamic forewall (above, 8), as well as its similarity in size and mode of construction to the Postern of the Tannery in the southern wall (17, below), make it possible to propose identifying Tower 9 as a gate tower belonging to the medieval city wall. This may be St. Lazarus’ Postern, which is mentioned in historical sources 17 as a small gate in the northern wall of the city, through which Christian pilgrims entered the Holy Sepulchre after they were banned from using Damascus Gate. In the past, many scholars have proposed that St. Lazarus’ Postern must have been in this area, which is between the northwestern corner of the wall and Damascus Gate (map at the end of the book, 16.  The size of the tower was estimated based on a slight bend that is apparent in the course of the Ottoman wall 23 m west of the corner of the tower. 17.  This description is given by the anonymous writer of “La Citez de Jherusalem,” ca. 1220 (trans. Conder 1896: 15–17).

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De Vogüé 1859; Schick 1889b; 1895; Clermont-Ganneau 1901: 113; Wilson 1865; Wightman 1993: 263). Another proposal identifies St. Lazarus’ Postern with an arch that was exposed in the compound of the College des Frères (Clermont-Ganneau 1901: 113–14; Bahat 1992: 721; Prawer 1991: 27). Excavations conducted along the central northern line of the Ottoman wall, on both sides of Damascus Gate, revealed that the Ottoman wall was built directly on top of the upper courses of the Roman–Byzantine wall (above, see fig. 2), and at a distance of ca. 8–10 m and parallel to the outside of the Ottoman wall, segments of the hewn moat and the Early Islamic forewall atop its edge were exposed. 18 10.  Along the Ottoman wall, ca. 50 m northeast of the prominent corner described above (9), a sounding perpendicular to the outside of the wall was excavated (Turler, De Groot, and Solar 1979, western sounding; here, fig. 5.10), revealing six courses of the Roman–Byzantine wall at the base of the Ottoman wall. Eight meters outside the line of the Ottoman wall, a segment of the forewall was exposed that was erected above the hewn moat. The forewall is 4.5 m thick and is preserved to a height of 3.5 m. Its inside face was built of dressed ashlars; the stones of its outer face have been robbed. The core of the wall is built of small stones cemented with a hard bonding material. The moat is 14 m wide; its depth was not noted. The moat’s southern escarpment is lined with a sloping wall that was built of roughly dressed stones. The excavators proposed a Crusader date for the forewall and moat complex. However, Bahat observed that, based on the descriptions of the Crusader siege of Jerusalem in the year 1099, the fortification system already existed at the time of the Crusader conquest. It is therefore reasonable to conclude that it was built some time prior to this (Bahat 1991: 74). 11. In excavations conducted outside the Damascus Gate (Hennessy 1970, Wightman 1989), a forward gate structure was exposed ca. 20 m outside the Ottoman Damascus Gate (fig. 5.11). There is a single passage in this structure, delimited between two towers, and a road leads from it to the inner gate. The gate is incorporated in a forward wall. Hennessy (1970) believed that the gate is from the 12th century; Wightman proposed that the forward gate was constructed to conform to the Early Islamic wall that was already built (Wightman 1993: 267). Bahat suggested dating the forward gate to the 13th century. 12.  East of the opening to Zedekiah’s Cave, in a spot where the Ottoman wall recedes and changes direction, an area was excavated along the outside of the wall (Mazor 2006; here, fig. 5.12). The excavation reached bedrock. It was determined that the base of the Ottoman wall was founded in this area on a rock-hewn surface that appears to be part of an ancient quarry. North of the line of the wall, the hewn bedrock descends to the north, and a segment of it is lined with a sloping wall that was built of ashlar stones and plastered. The excavator identified these remains as part of the hewn moat that protected the city at the time of the Crusader siege.

18.  These remains have been discussed at length in studies by Bahat (1991; 1992), Wightman (1993: 246–57 n. 67), and Bieberstein and Bloedhorn (1994), and they are presented below in brief.

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Fig. 16.  Ottoman wall built over the edge of the moat. Looking east along the eastern part of the northern wall.

13.  In an excavation conducted around the first tower in the Ottoman wall west of Herod’s Gate, the courses of the Roman–Byzantine wall and a tower were exposed in the foundation of the Ottoman wall and tower (Hamilton 1944: 35–53; fig. 5.13). Approximately 9 m north of the Ottoman wall, remains of the Early Islamic forewall that was built above the edge of the hewn moat were discerned. 14.  Excavations were conducted along the inner side of the Ottoman wall ca. 100–120 m east of Herod’s Gate (fig. 5,14; Baruch, Avni, and Parnos 2008; Avni, Baruch, and Weksler-Bdolah 2001). Three excavation areas were opened. Area C is located inside a corner of the wall, where the Ottoman wall protrudes 5 m northward and straightens back eastward; Area B is located west of the abovementioned corner of the wall; and Area A is located east of the corner of the wall. In Area B, courses of the Roman–Byzantine wall were exposed beneath the courses of the Ottoman wall; while in Areas A and C, the Ottoman wall overlies a late Early Islamic wall, probably of the 10th–11th centuries c.e., and the Roman–Byzantine wall is completely missing. These discoveries show that the protruding corner in the line of the Ottoman wall marks the place where the Ottoman wall diverges from the line of the Roman–Byzantine wall, after which it can be traced to this place. It also supports

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Fig. 17.  A view of Sultan Suleiman Street, the moat between the northern Ottoman wall (right) and the Rockefeller Museum cliff (left). Looking east.

the suggestion that the line of the Roman–Byzantine wall turned here, southeast, along the Bezetha Valley (fig. 2; Tsafrir 1999a). The excavations inside the protruding corner of the Ottoman wall, where it diverges from the Roman–Byzantine wall (Area C), revealed a collapse composed of dressed-masonry stones that included pointed lintel stones. The excavators proposed that the corner of the Ottoman wall was founded here on a gate tower of the Early Islamic wall (Baruch, Avni, and Parnos 2008: Area C) and that the wall next to this gate may have been breached during the Crusader conquest of the city. However, Parnos (pers. comm.) has suggested the existence of an earlier Roman–Byzantine tower under that corner of the Ottoman wall, located in the northeastern corner of the Roman–Byzantine wall. In Area A, 45–50 m east of the abovementioned corner, the inside of the city wall was reinforced with a series of square pilasters built at set intervals. Six pilasters were exposed along the inner face of the Early Islamic wall in Area A, and according to the excavators these pilasters, which they dated to the Ayyubid period, served to make the line of the wall wider in this place, creating a kind of elevated platform on the top of the wall (Baruch, Avni, and Parnos 2008: 1820).

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Fig. 18a.  Ottoman wall built over the edge of the moat. Looking south along the northern part of the eastern wall.

15.  From this point onward, along the northeastern corner of the Old City, the Ottoman wall usually follows the line of the hewn moat, which, in many places is exposed to a great height above the present surface (fig. 5). In addition, the opposite, northern face of the moat stands out prominently today below the Rockefeller Museum, ca. 18 m north of the line of the present wall, where Sultan Suleiman Street is paved across the entire width of the moat (Kuemmel 1906; Bieberstein and Bloedhorn 1994; Bahat 2001; here, figs. 16–18a–b). The Ottoman wall is either built directly atop the moat’s edge or on top of an earlier wall that was built atop the moat––possibly the remains of the Early Islamic forewall. 16.  No excavations have been conducted along the northern parts of the eastern Ottoman wall, where the wall is built on the edge of the moat. However, north of the Lions Gate, next to the Church of Saint Anne, part of a tower was exposed (fig. 5.16) that was constructed in a manner similar to Tancred’s Tower. This tower, located inside the present line of the Ottoman wall, is assumed to have been built in the Middle Ages (see Mauss 1894: 47–49, figs. 37, 38; de Saulcy 1865: 109; Bahat 1991: 76; Wightman 1993: 281, fig. 87).

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Fig. 18b.  Ottoman wall built over the edge of the moat. Looking north along the northern part of the eastern wall.

The Archaeological Remains of Medieval Fortifications in the Southern Parts of Jerusalem’s Fortifications To date, no remains of Early Islamic fortifications are known along the southern and southwestern line of the Ottoman walls. However, remains of large square towers that are usually attributed to the Ayyubid period were exposed under the courses of the Ottoman wall in several places ( Broshi and Gibson 1994; Ben Dov 1994; Seligman 2001; Wightman 1993: 273–86). A brief description of them is provided below. West of the present day Dung Gate and above the remains of the Late Roman eastern cardo, a gate-tower was exposed that was identified with the Postern of the Tannery, which is mentioned in medieval historical sources (fig. 5.17; fig. 19; BenDov 1983; 1994). Two other towers, the Middle Tower (fig. 5.18) and the Sulfur

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Fig. 19.  The Postern of the Tannery in the southern wall, looking northeast.

Tower (fig. 5.19), were exposed west of it, and farther to the west is another tower that was exposed near the southern end of Habab Street, where the western cardo of Jerusalem probably ends, and it, too, probably served as a gate tower (fig. 5.20). This tower was partly exposed on both sides of the Ottoman wall (Broshi 1977; Avigad 1983: 251–54). In the collapse exposed at its foot, a construction inscription by the Ayyubid sultan al-Malik al-Muʾazzam ʿIsa was discovered, which indicates that the tower was built or renovated during that sultan’s reign (Broshi 1987 and references there). Another tower was exposed below the present-day Zion Gate (fig. 5.21; Broshi and Tsafrir 1977), and west of it, another tower was recently uncovered at the southern end of the Armenian Patriarchate Road (fig. 5.22; Seligman 2001). Seligman has suggested identifying it with Belcayre’s Postern. Another tower was exposed under the southwestern corner of the Ottoman wall (fig. 5.23, fig. 20; Broshi and Gibson 1994). Approximately 650 m north of that corner, another building inscription of al-Malik al-Muʾazzam ʿIsa was found, related to a square tower of the same style (Broshi 1987; fig. 5.24). The towers are similar in size (ca. 23 m × 23 m), as is the manner of their stone dressing, which is characterized by drafted margins, made with a multi-point hammer, and a prominent boss. Their overall appearance, as well as their building inscriptions, lead us to date them to the Ayyubid period (late 12th–early 13th century). A Crusader origin, however, can not be ruled out,

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Fig. 20.  The southwestern Ayyubid corner- tower, looking north.

because similar stone dressing is also known at Crusader sites (Clermont-Ganneau 1899; Bahat 1991: 73 n. 34; Ellenblum 1992; Boas 1999). The towers are integrated within the course of a wall, and it has not been decided whether the wall was built prior to the towers (Tsafrir and Broshi 1977), simultaneously, or subsequently (Seligman 2001).

Summary and Discussion A close examination of the segmental remains (1–16, above) reveals three different lines of fortification that antedate the Ottoman northern wall. They were built one after the other, in the Roman–Byzantine, Early Islamic (Abbasid or Fatimid), and medieval (Crusader or Ayyubid) periods, and differ in their modes of construction as well as in their routes. The foundation of the Ottoman wall zigzags above all three of them, indicating that, in the 16th century, the Ottoman designers of the walls were familiar with the remains of all three lines of fortifications. 1.  The Roman–Byzantine Wall (fig. 21) The earlier remains belong to the “Roman–Byzantine” line of wall that was discussed at length elsewhere (Weksler-Bdolah 2003, 2006–7, 2007). Its remains were exposed under the central part of the northern Ottoman wall along ca. 850 m (see

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above, fig. 2). As described earlier, the results support Tsafrir’s reconstruction of the northwestern branch of the “Roman–Byzantine” wall as following the topographic ridge from the tower of David northward, whereas the northeastern branch of the same wall descended along the Bezetha Valley southward. Both lines are located inside the Ottoman wall. 2.  The Late Early Islamic Fortifications, 10th–11th Centuries:    The Forewall and the Main Wall (fig. 21) The Forewall The subsequent line of fortifications runs around the northern outskirts of the Ottoman wall and is composed of a wall that is built above the edge of an external hewn moat (segments 1, 2, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 11, 12, 13, 15 above). Square towers protruded from the line of the wall (1, 7, 8, above). The alignment of the wall with the side of the hewn moat enables their identification as parts of a single line of fortification. The moat is mostly rock-hewn, except in the segment of the wall (no. 1, above) where a broad, deep channel was probably dug. The side of the hewn moat slopes sharply and is sometimes lined with ashlar stones similar to a glacis (6, 12 above) or with roughly dressed stones (10, above). The width of the moat is ca. 14–20 m (4, 10, 15 above), and it is more than 9 m deep (4, above). The lower courses of the wall are built of large, square, hard limestone blocks bonded with gray material (e.g. 5, 6, 7, above). Their surfaces are coarsely worked and do not have margins. They are often cracked and very weathered. From the archaeological point of view, the date of this fortification is difficult to determine, because its outside surface is mostly what has been documented and excavated so far, and no floors that abut it were exposed. Furthermore, our recent excavations along its outside (segments 2, 5, 6, 7 above) were not helpful in this regard. Nevertheless, Baruch, Avni, and Parnos (2008: 1820; 14 above) have dated an inner segment of this wall in areas A and C near Herod’s Gate (fig. 5.14 A, C) to the end of the Early Islamic period (10th–11th centuries), a date that accords well with the suggestion that this fortification be identified with the late Early Islamic forewall that is described in detail in the Crusader texts (Wightman 1993: 257). Indeed, the wall outside Jaffa Gate (1, above) was dated by Reich and Shukron to the 13th century, but Maeir and Goldfuss (above) had previously suggested an earlier date; furthermore, its stratigraphic location––overlying a late Byzantine or Ummayad bathhouse and sealed under the foundation of the Ottoman Jaffa Gate—enables us to settle on an Abbasid or Fatimid date of construction. The Main Wall In addition to the suggested identification of the wall that was named “murus minor” by the Crusaders with the 10th–11th century Abbasid or Fatimid forewall and moat (above, p. 422 n. 5, p. 424 n. 8), I would suggest identifying the main wall (the “murus maior”) with the northern line of the Roman–Byzantine wall. My suggestion implies that the Roman–Byzantine wall in the northern parts of the city was not abandoned once the early Islamic forewall was constructed but renovated and used as the main-inner wall of the city (fig. 21). At the same time, the southern line of the Roman-Byzantine wall, around Mount Zion and the City of David, was

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Fig. 21.  Jerusalem’s city walls in the Roman–Byzantine, Early Islamic, Crusader/Ayyubid, and Ottoman periods.

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bandoned and replaced by a shorter line of fortifications. The Crusaders’ descriptive name for the main wall—“the inner ancient walls”—can thus be better understood. In the northwestern and northeastern parts of the city the Early Islamic forewall was built along a new course and at a considerable distance outside the old Roman–Byzantine wall; whereas in the northern central part of the city the Early Islamic forewall was built north of, parallel, and extremely close to (ca. 8–10 m) the Roman–Byzantine wall. Consequently, the areas that were added to the northwestern and northeastern parts of the city were located between two lines of walls—the external forewall, and the inner, older Roman–Byzantine wall—and the central part of the city was enclosed in the north by two parallel lines of walls. The anonymous description of the 13th-century La Citez de Jherusalem (trans. Conder 1896; see also Bahat 1991: 76; Wightman 1993: 247) mentions a postern, which is located next to the Church of Mary Magdalene in the northeastern part of the city, and states that from this postern it was impossible to go out to the fields that were outside the city. Instead “they went here between two walls.” This description suggests the existence of a large area in the northeastern corner of the city that was enclosed within the Roman–Byzantine wall, which served as the main wall at that time, and the external Early Islamic forewall. 19 It is difficult to trace the course of the Early Islamic wall around the entire perimeter of the city, because no remains of it have been exposed along the southern line of the Ottoman wall. Nonetheless, the historical sources indicate that the Early Islamic wall of the mid-11th century left the churches of Mount Zion and the Siloam Pool outside its perimeter, thus making it clear that the southern parts of the Roman–Byzantine wall around Mt. Zion and the City of David was finally abandoned during that time. It is commonly assumed that the new, southern line of the Early Islamic period have passed near the current Ottoman line, but no remains are yet known. Furthermore, the moat in front of the southern boundary of the city, which was described by the Crusaders, is likewise thus far unknown. 3.  The Crusader/Ayyubid Fortifications (fig. 21) During the late 12th or early 13th century, a third line of fortification, whose remains were exposed beneath the northern Ottoman walls (3, 4, 9, above), was constructed. It consists of a wall that integrates massive square towers within its route. The wall runs parallel to the inner face of the Early Islamic forewall around the northwestern and northeastern corners. So far, three towers that have been only partly exposed (3, 4, 9, above) were assigned to the line of fortification that ran along the northwestern corner, and one tower (16, above) might belong to the northeastern line of fortification. The towers are constructed in a similar fashion. Their walls are built of large stones, and the cornerstones have a boss and margins that were dressed with a multi-pointed hammer. They resemble the towers exposed at the base of the southern Ottoman wall (above) that are ascribed to the Ayyubid period. The ceramic and numismatic finds discovered on the floors abutting the walls of Towers 3 and 8 date them to the end of the 12th or beginning of the 13th 19.  My suggestion is theoretical, because the Roman–Byzantine northeastern line of wall is not yet known. Further excavations along its route may shed light on this issue.

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century, that is, the end of the Crusader period or the early Ayyubid period, which is also the date of Tancred’s Tower (4 above). The towers are integrated within the line of the wall, but a seam that protrudes at the interface between Tower 3 (above) and the wall in which it is incorporated suggests that they were not constructed at the same time but one after the other. As in the case of southern wall (Seligman 2001), the wall seems to be contemporary with or later than the towers. From an archaeological point of view, it is possible to date the towers (3, 4, 9, 16, above) and the wall that incorporates them to the late 12th or the early 13th century. Thus, around 1200, Jerusalem’s northern parts were enclosed once again within a double line of fortifications (fig. 21). The external line of fortifications consisted of the Early Islamic forewall outlined by the hewn moat, whereas the inner line consisted of the old Roman–Byzantine wall in the center 20 and the Crusader/ Ayyubid towers, which were integrated in a wall along the northwestern and possibly also the northeastern corners. It might be suggested that the construction of the new line of Crusader or Ayyubid fortifications a short distance from and parallel to the northwestern and northeastern corners of the Early Islamic forewall was intended to strengthen and support the forewall once the main wall was no longer in use. Along the southern and southwestern line of the Ottoman city wall, remains of a wall that integrates Ayyubid towers were exposed (segments 17–24 above). The perimeter of the late 12th–early 13th-century wall, then, was similar to the present Ottoman wall. However, it is commonly believed that Mount Zion was refortified, too, at that period, because remains of a wall and towers were discovered around its perimeter (fig. 21; Bliss and Dickie 1898: 68–75, General plan I; Wightman 1993: 274–75). Historically, it is difficult to identify the builders of the late 12th–early 13thcentury line of fortifications. Following the Crusader conquest of the city in 1099, the historical sources note the deteriorated condition of the city walls and state the intention to renovate them but do not go into specific details with regard to the construction or renovations of walls (Bahat 1991: 71–78). However, after the conquest of the city in 1187, the historical sources report the construction of a wall, towers and a moat during the rule of the Ayyubids sultans Saladin, his brother alMalik al-ʿAdil and his son al-Malik al-Muʾazzam ʿIsa (Bahat 1991: 122–27; Wightman 1993: 273–79). These sources, together with the building inscriptions of the Ayyubid sultan al-Malik al-Muʾazzam ʿIsa found among the ruins of the southern towers (above, Broshi 1987), allows the major construction of the fortifications to be attributed to the Ayyubid dynasty.

20.  The remains of a packed earthen floor and the wall of an Ayyubid building that abutted the inside of the Roman–Byzantine wall (i.e., Herod’s Gate, Area B), attest to the use of the Roman– Byzantine wall around 1200 (Weksler-Bdolah 2003: 56–57).

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4.  The Destruction of the Medieval Fortifications of Jerusalem and    the Construction of the Ottoman Wall (fig. 21) The Ayyubid fortifications were intentionally destroyed in 1219 and again in 1220 at the command of al-Malik al-Muʾazzam ʿIsa. 21 Collapse consisting of large masonry stones that was exposed at the foot of the forewall (1, above), as well as at the foot of the Roman–Byzantine line on the inside of the wall at Herod’s Gate in excavations areas B and C (Baruch, Avni, and Parnos 2008) and also at the base of the Ayyubid towers (3, 20, 24 above) bear witness to this destruction. Following a hiatus of approximately 300 years, during which Jerusalem remained unfortified, the wall that today encircles the Old City (fig. 21) was built, during the reign of Suleiman the Magnificent, in the second quarter of the 16th century. As noted, the Ottoman wall zigzags above the remains of the double line of the late 12th–early 13th-century fortifications; sometimes it overlays the remains of the Early Islamic forewall and moat, (e.g., 5, 6, 7; figs. 6, 7, 16, 18), whereas at other places it is founded directly on top of the Roman–Byzantine wall (10, 11, 13; fig. 3) or above the courses of the massive Crusader/Ayyubid towers (3, 4, 9; figs. 14, 19). It is thus possible to suggest that the route of the Ottoman wall was dictated not only by topographical considerations and the size of the settled city but primarily by the earlier fortifications whose lines it followed. 21.  The destruction was described by the historian Abu Shama. See Prawer 1991: 53–54; Wightman 1993: 278.

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Ben Ami, D., and Tchehanovetz, Y. 2008 Jerusalem, Giv’ati Parking Lot. Hadashot Arkheologiyot 120. http://www.hadashot​ -esi.org.il/report_detail_eng.asp?id-873&mag_id=114. Ben-Dov, M. 1983 Jerusalem’s Fortifications: The City Walls, Gates and the Temple Mount. Tel-Aviv: Zemorah- Bitan. [Hebrew] 1993 Jerusalem Fortifications and Citadel: Eighth to 11th Centuries. Pp. 793–95 in The New Encyclopedia of Archaeological Excavations in the Holy Land, vol. 2, ed. E. Stern, A. Lewinson-Gilboa, and J. Aviram. Jerusalem: Israel Exploration Society. 1994 Excavations and Architectural Survey of the Archaeological Remains along the Southern Wall of the Jerusalem Old City. Pp. 311–20 in Ancient Jerusalem Revealed, ed. H. Geva. Jerusalem: Israel Exploration Society. Bieberstein, K., and Bloedhorn, H. 1994 Jerusalem: Grundzüge der Baugeschichte vom Chalcholithikum bis zur Frühzeit der osmanischen Herrschaft, I–III. Beihefte zum Tübinger Atlas des vorderen Orients, Reihe B. Nr. 100/1-3. Wiesbaden: Steiner. Bliss, F. J., and Dickie, A. C. 1898 Excavations in Jerusalem 1894–1897. London: Palestine Exploration Fund. Boas A. J. 1999 Crusader Archaeology: The Material Culture of the Latin East. London: Routledge . Broshi, M. 1977 Along Jerusalem’s Walls. Biblical Archaeologist 40: 13–17. 1987 al-Malik al-Muʾazzam ʿIsa: Evidence in a New Inscription. Eretz Israel 19: 299–302. [Hebrew] Broshi, M., and Gibson, S. 1994 Excavations Along the Western and Southern Walls of the Old City of Jerusalem. Pp. 147–55 in Ancient Jerusalem Revealed, ed. H. Geva. Jerusalem: Israel Exploration Society. Broshi, M., and Tsafrir, Y. 1977 Excavations at the Zion Gate, Jerusalem. Israel Exploration Journal 27: 28–37. Chen D., Margalit, S,. and Pixner, B. 1994 Mount Zion: Discovery of Iron Age Fortifications below the Gate of the Essenes. Pp. 76–81 in Ancient Jerusalem Revealed, ed. H. Geva, Jerusalem: Israel Exploration Society. Clermont-Ganneau, C. 1896–99  The Medieval Tooling of Stones by the Crusaders. Pp. 38–42 in Archaeological Researches in Palestine during the Years 1896–99, vol. 1. London: Palestine Exploration Fund. 1901 Archaeological and Epigraphic notes on Palestine. Palestine Exploration Fund Quarterly Statement: 109–14. Conder, C. R. 1888 The City of Jerusalem: Palestine Pilgrims’ Text Society. London: Palestine Pilgrims’ Text Society. Ellenblum, R. 1992 Construction Methods in Frankish Rural Settlements. Pp. 168–89 in The Horns of Hattin, ed. B. Z. Kedar. Jerusalem: Yad Izhak Ben-Zvi.,  Finn, E. A. 1889 Note on the Old Wall of Jerusalem. Palestine Exploration Fund Quarterly Statement 205. Geva, H. 1983 Excavations in the Citadel of Jerusalem, 1979–1980 (Preliminary Report). Israel Exploration Journal 33: 55–71.

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1993a Jerusalem, the Roman Period. Pp. 758–66 in The New Encyclopedia of Archaeological Excavations in the Holy Land, vol. 2, ed. E. Stern, A. Lewinson-Gilboa, and J. Aviram. Jerusalem: Israel Exploration Society. 1993b Jerusalem, the Byzantine Period, The City Wall. Pp. 770–72 in The New Encyclopedia of Archaeological Excavations in the Holy Land, vol. 2, ed. E. Stern, A. LewinsonGilboa, and J. Aviram. Jerusalem: Israel Exploration Society. Goldfuss, H. 1984 Jerusalem, Jaffa Gate. Excavations and Surveys in Israel 3: 53–55. Hagenmayer, H., ed. 1889–890  Anonymi gesta Francorum et aliorum Hierosolymitanorum. Heidelberg: Winter. Hamilton, R. W. 1944 Excavations Against the North Wall of Jerusalem, 1937–8. Quarterly of the Department of Antiquities of Palestine 10: 1–54. Hennessy, J. B. 1970 Preliminary Report on Excavations at the Damascus Gate, Jerusalem, 1964–1966. Levant 2: 22–27. Johns, C. N. 1950 The Citadel, Jerusalem: A Summary of Work Since 1934. Quarterly of the Department of Antiquities of Palestine 14: 121–90. Kuemmel, H. 1906 Karte de Materialienzur Topographie des alten Jerusalem. Leipzig: Verlag des Deutschen Palästina-Vereins: Laurent, J. C. M (ed.) 1864 Burchardus de Monte Sion, Peregrinatores Medii Aevi Quatuor. Leipzig. Maeir, A. M. 2000 The Excavations at Mamilla, Jerusalem, Phase I (1989). Pp. 299–310 in Ancient Jerusalem Revealed, ed. H. Geva. Jerusalem: Israel Exploration Society. Magness, J. 1991 The Walls of Jerusalem in the Early Islamic Period. Biblical Archaeologist 54: 208–17. Mazar, E. 2007 The Ophel Wall in Jerusalem in the Byzantine Period. Pp. 181–200 in The Temple Mount Excavations in Jerusalem 1968–1978 Directed by Benjamin Mazar, Final Reports, vol. 3: The Byzantine Period. Qedem 46. Jerusalem: Institute of Archaeology, The Hebrew University. Mazor, G. 2006 The Northern City Wall of Jerusalem on the Eve of the First Crusade (Excavations at the ‘Jordanian Garden’). ʿAtiqot 51: 49–53. [Hebrew] Mauss, C. 1894 La piscine de Bethesda à Jérusalem. Paris: Ernest Leroux, Merrill, S. 1886 Recent Discoveries at Jerusalem. Palestine Exploration Fund Quarterly Statement 23–24. Peyré, J. F. A. 1859 Histoire de la première Croisade, II. Paris: A. Durand. Prawer, J. 1985 The Jerusalem the Crusaders Captured: A Contribution to the Medieval Topography of the City. Pp. 1–16 in Crusade and Settlement, ed. P. Edbury. Cardiff: University College Cardiff Press. 1991 Political History of Crusader and Ayyubid Jerusalem. Pp. 1–67 in The History of Jerusalem: Crusaders and Ayyubids (1099–1250), ed. J. Prawer and H. Ben-Shammai. Jerusalem: Yad Izhak Ben-Zvi. [Hebrew]

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Reich, R. 2008 Jerusalem: The Mamillah Area. Pp. 1817–19 in The New Encyclopedia of Archaeological Excavations in the Holy Land, vol. 5 (supplementary volume), ed. Ephraim Stern et al. Jerusalem: Israel Exploration Society.. Reich, R., and Shukron, E. 1995 Jerusalem, Mamilla. Excavations and Surveys in Israel 14: 94–95. 2006 Excavations in the Mamillah Area, Jerusalem: The Medieval Fortifications. ʿAtiqot 54: 125–52. Rohricht, R. 1901 Geschichte des ersten Kreuzzuges. Innsbruck: Wagner. Saulcy, F. de 1865 Voyage en Terre Sainte, Paris. Schick, C. 1878 Mitteilungen aus Jerusalem II. Zeitschrift des Deutschen Palästina Vereins 1: 15–23. 1889a Remains of Old Wall near the North West Corner of the City. Palestine Exploration Fund Quarternaly Statement: 65–66. 1889b Remains of Old Wall Outside the Northern Wall of the City. Palestine Exploration Fund Quarterly Statement: 63. 1895 A Stair and Postern in the Old Wall. Palestine Exploration Fund Quarterly Statement: 30. Seligman, J. 2001 Yet Another Medieval Tower and Section of Jerusalem’s Ancient Walls (Armenian Patriarchate Road). ʿAtiqot 42: 262–76. 2002 Jerusalems’ Ancient Walls Strike Again: The Knights Palace Hotel. ʿAtiqot 43: 73–85. Sion, O., and Puni, S. 2011 Jerusalem, Jaffa Gate, Preliminary Report. Hadashot Arkheologiyot 123. http://www​ .hadashot​-esi.org.il/report_detail_eng.asp?id-1779&mag_id=118. Strange, G. le 1890 Palestine under the Moslems. London: A. P. Watt. Tobler,T. 1874 Descripiones Terrae Sancttae. Leipzig: J. C. Hinrichs. Tsafrir, Y. 1977 Muqaddasi’s Gates of Jerusalem: A New Identifications Based on Byzantine Sources. Israel Exploration Journal 27: 152–61. 1999a The Topography and Archaeology of Aelia Capitolina. Pp. 115–66 in The History of Jerusalem: The Roman and Byzantine Periods (70–638 c.e.), ed. Yoram. Tsafrir and Shmuel. Safrai. Jerusalem: Yad Izhak Ben-Zvi. [Hebrew] 1999b The Topography and Archaeology of Jerusalem in the Byzantine Period. Pp. 281– 352 in The History of Jerusalem: The Roman and Byzantine Periods (70–638 c.e.), ed. Yoram. Tsafrir and Shmuel. Safrai . Jerusalem: Yad Izhak Ben-Zvi. [Hebrew] 1999c The Holy City of Jerusalem in the Madaba Map. Pp. 155–64 in The Madaba Map Centenary 1897–1997: Travelling Through the Byzantine Umayyad Period. Proceedings of the International Conference Held in Amman, 7–9 April 1997, ed. Michele Piccirillo and Alliata Eugenio. Jerusalem: Studium Biblicum Franciscanum. 2000 Procopius and the Nea Church in Jerusalem. An Tard 8: 149–64. Turler, D., De Groot, A., and Solar, G. 1979 North Wall. Hadashot Archeologiot 69/71: 56–57. [Hebrew] Tushingham, A. D. 1985 Excavations in the Armenian Garden on the Western Hill. Pp. 60–107 in Excavations in Jerusalem 1961–1967, vol. 1: Toronto: Royal Ontario Museum. Vincent, L. H. 1913 Jérusalem: Fouilles aux abords de la Tour Pséphina. Revue Biblique 10: 88–96.

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1927 La troisième enceinte de Jérusalem. Revue Biblique 36: 516–48. Warren, C., and Conder, C. R. 1884 The Survey of Western Palestine: Jerusalem. London: Palestine Exploration Fund. Weksler-Bdolah, S. 2001 Jerusalem, The Old City Walls. Hadashot Arkheologiot / Excavations and Surveys in Israel 113: 79*–80*. 2003 The Fortifications of Jerusalem During Late Roman, Byzantine and Early Islamic Periods (3rd/4th to 8th cent.). M.A. thesis. Jerusalem: Hebrew University. [Hebrew] 2005 Jerusalem, the New Gate. Excavations and Surveys in Israel: 117 (www.hadashot-esi​ .org.il). 2006 The Old City Walls of Jerusalem: The Northwestern Corner. ʿAtiqot 54: 95–119 [Hebrew]; 163–64 [English summary]. 2006–7 The Fortifications of Jerusalem in the Byzantine Period. Aram 18–19: 85–112. 2007 Reconsidering the Byzantine Period City Wall of Jerusalem. Eretz-Israel 28: 88–101. [Hebrew] 2011 The Fortification System in the Northwestern Part of Jerusalem from the Early Islamic to the Ottoman Periods. ʿAtiqot 65: 105–30 [Hebrew]; 73*–75* [English summary]. forthcoming  Jerusalem, Kikar Zahal’s tunnel. Hadashot Arkheologiot. Weksler-Bdolah, S., and Avissar, M. forthcoming  Jerusalem, Excavations in the Knights Palace Hotel. ʿAtiqot. Wightman, G. J. 1989 The Damascus Gate, Jerusalem. BAR International Series 519. Oxford: British Archaeological Reports. 1993 The Walls of Jerusalem from the Canaanites to the Mamluks. Sydney: Meditarch. Wilson, C. W. 1865 The Ordnance Survey of Jerusalem. London: H. M. Stationery Off., G. E. Eyre and W. Spottiswoode printers. Zelinger, Y. 2007 “Do good in thy good pleasure unto Zion: build thou the walls of Jerusalem” (Ps. 51:18): The Exposure of Eudocia’s Wall around Mount Zion and its Date. Pp.101–7 in New Studies in the Archaeology of Jerusalem and its Region: Collected Papers, ed. J. Patrich and D. Amit. Jerusalem: Jerusalem, Israel Antiquities Authority, Jerusalem Region. [Hebrew] 2010 Jerusalem: The Slopes of Mount Zion, Preliminary Report. Hadashot Arkheologiyot 122. http://www​.hadashot​-esi.org.il/report_detail_eng.asp?id-1530&mag_id=117.

Ayyubid Jerusalem: New Architectural and Archaeological Discoveries Mahmoud Hawari University of Oxford

Introduction Compared with other medieval Islamic periods in Jerusalem, the Ayyubid period (1187–1250) has remained unexplored by archaeologists and art historians. This is a short and turbulent period, which falls within the much larger period of the Crusader wars in the Levant, which lasted about two centuries (1096–1291). Salah al-Din’s conquest of Jerusalem in 1187, after nearly nine decades of Frankish rule, opened a new era of cultural and socioeconomic transformation, as well as changes in its urban landscape and architectural program. Thus, the renewed political fervor that followed gave fresh impetus to an extensive rebuilding program that is reminiscent of the original Umayyad transformation of the city in the late 7th and early 8th centuries. This building activity initiated by the Ayyubids, which is exemplified by a large variety of monuments, would also influence the later magnificent medieval Islamic architecture of Jerusalem. While the scope of the Ayyubids’ architectural activities in their regional centers of Cairo, Damascus, and Aleppo was vast and uniform, in Jerusalem they faced a uniquely serious challenge: the re-Islamization and the restoration of a city that had been under Crusader rule for nearly nine decades. Above all, the Ayyubids brought important cultural changes to Jerusalem, especially a new style in Islamic art and architecture that would constitute a prelude to the magnificent architecture of the Mamluk period. The extant Ayyubid monuments provide us with a wide range of religious, civic, and military functions and allow us to form a fairly good idea of what the city must have been like under Ayyubid rule. Furthermore, new architectural elements and ideas, which were later adopted in the Mamluk and Ottoman periods and became integral components of Jerusalem’s style of architecture, were introduced into Jerusalem through these monuments.

Salah al-Din’s Restoration of Jerusalem to Islam During the Crusader occupation of Jerusalem (1099–1187), the Franks introduced topographical and sociopolitical changes into the city. A completely new Frankish population settled in the city and a new political, administrative, and social system was introduced. Architectural changes occurred when some existing buildings were adapted to new purposes, both religious and secular. Furthermore, new buildings were erected to serve the needs of the new rulers and settlers. These 453

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changes, nevertheless, did not alter the urban landscape significantly; the physical features of the city remained largely as they were before 1099. The Franks had brought with them from Europe a new style of architecture and decorative arts that was influenced by Romanesque and Gothic traditions, which left its mark on the city for a long time after their departure. Following Salah al-Din’s conquest, Jerusalem once again witnessed another process of drastic changes in various aspects of its topography, demography, administration, and socioeconomic life. Salah al-Din was faced with two urgent tasks: the re-sanctification of the holy precinct of the Haram al-Sharif for the renewal of Islamic worship and the strengthening of the city’s fortifications. As a first priority, Salah al-Din began an extensive architectural program of restoration that had the ultimate aim of removing various aspects of the Christian-Frankish presence from the city. Not surprisingly, this program began at the Haram. The Crusader occupiers of the city identified the Dome of the Rock as the Temple of the Lord (Templum Domini ). Most structural additions and decorations made by the Templars and the Augustinian canons during their stay in the area were removed, especially in the Dome of the Rock and its vicinity; a large gilded cross was eliminated from the top of the Dome of the Rock (Bahaʾ al-Din, 66; Ibn al-Athir, X, 157; Ibn Wasil, II, 217). Inside the latter, all Christian icons, figurative images, and inscriptions, including an altar and a small gilded dome with marble columns, were taken down and destroyed (ʿImad al-Din, 50–51; Abu Shama, II, 113; Ibn al-Athir, X, 158; Ibn Wasil, II, 229). Many changes took place in the Aqsā Mosque, which had become a royal palace for the Latin king (known by the Franks as the Templum or Palatium Salomonis––the Palace of Solomon), and later became the Templars’ headquarters, as seen by Theodoric in 1172 (1891: 30–32). All Crusader alterations, structural additions, and the dividing partitions were removed and new Islamic modifications were introduced. A new, elaborate mihrab, decorated with marble and a mosaic inscription bearing Salah al-Din’s name and the date of its restoration 583/1187–88, was refurbished (ʿImad al-Din, 48; Abu Shama, II, 107–8; Ibn al-Athir, X, 157–58; Ibn Wasil, II, 217; van Berchem 1925: 403–4; Hawari 2007: Appendix III, no. 2). A magnificent minbar was brought from Aleppo to Jerusalem by Salah al-Din and was installed next to the restored mihrab to mark the renewal of Muslim worship there. This minbar, a remarkable masterpiece of the art of wood-carving, was ordered by Nur al-Din Zangi in Aleppo in 1168–69 and was completed after his death in 1174 (van Berchem 1925: 393–402). The second pressing task on Salah al-Din’s agenda was the restoration of the city’s defenses in light of the immense political turmoil and the ongoing threat of a Frankish counterattack. Following an established pattern of creating a new center of administration and defense, as had been the case in Damascus and Cairo, Salah al-Din rebuilt significant sections of the city walls and introduced some changes to the citadel. Further strengthening of the city’s fortifications was carried out by Salah al-Din’s nephew, al-Muʿazzam ʿIsa, the governor of southern Syria, from 1202 to 1212. This is attested by the numerous surviving inscriptions and by archaeo-

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logical excavations. Ironically al-Muʿazzam ʿIsa himself ordered the fortifications to be demolished in 1219, fearing the city would fall into the hands of the advancing Fifth Crusade.

The Ayyubids’ Architectural Program The relative political stability following the departure of the Franks and the reopening of the Islamic holy places for pilgrimage attracted waves of Muslim migration from various parts of the Islamic world, as well as Eastern Christians and Jews. Under Salah al-Din, al-ʿAdil, and al-Muʿazzam, Jerusalem enjoyed a period of growth and prosperity. As part of their policy to restore Jerusalem to Islam and to affirm Sunni Orthodoxy, the Ayyubids sought to develop the city in accordance with Muslim needs. They founded numerous religious and civic institutions in the city and established pious endowments (waqfs) for their upkeep. Some of the new religious foundations were established in former Crusader buildings, and the Ayyubid builders utilized a large quantity of Crusader architectural spolia in their monuments. One of the most important religious institutions introduced to Jerusalem by Salah al-Din was the madrasa (theological school), which aimed at consolidating Sunni jurisprudence in the city. Six madrasas are known to have been founded in Jerusalem by the Ayyubids: one by Salah al-Din––the Salahiyya Madrasa; one by Salah al-Din’s son al-Afdal; one by his treasurer; two by his nephew al-Muʿazzam ʿIsa; and one by a Kurdish amir. In addition Salah al-Din introduced into Jerusalem two other institutions: the khanqah (a monastery-like institution for Sufis) and the zawiya (literary ‘corner’ for teaching purposes). Under the Ayyubids, one khanqah (the Salahiyya Khanqah) and five zawiyas are known to have been founded in Jerusalem. Only four new mosques (masjids) were built by the Ayyubids, three of which were founded by members of the Ayyubid family and one by a religious figure. The Aqsa Mosque, which performed the function of the only congregational mosque in the city ( jamiʿ ), underwent extensive restoration and the installation of a mihrab and minbar by Salah al-Din, as well as the elaborate porch and façade by al-Muʿazzam ʿIsa. Three commemorative domed structures (qubbas) were erected under the Ayyubids, all within the Haram (Qubbat al-Miʿraj, Qubbat Sulayman, and Qubbat Musa). Commemorative monuments for prophets of the Old Testament were known in Syria and Palestine from the early centuries of Christianity. Islam inherited the traditions of the Old Testament prophets, such as Abraham, Ishmael, Amos, Job, and Moses, first through the Qurʾan and later through the genre of qisas al-anbiyaʾ (“Stories of the Prophets”).

Archaeological Investigation My research and fieldwork on Ayyubid architecture in the Old City of Jerusalem provide a comprehensive architectural and archaeological study of the extant Ayyubid buildings (Hawari 2007). According to the literary sources and the

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epigraphic material, we know of about 40 monuments founded by the Ayyubids in and around the Old City. Some monuments are intact, a few have been partly altered, and others have disappeared long ago. Twenty-two buildings have survived. I have described, recorded, and discussed these 22 monuments by means of survey drawings and photographs, providing essential archaeological data and architectural discussion, thus complementing the epigraphic, archival, and literary historical evidence (Hawari 2007: Catalogue). There are 5 buildings that have been largely rebuilt or restored in later periods (Hawari 2007: Appendix I); 10 buildings that are no longer extant are known from contemporaneous or near contemporaneous literary sources and inscriptions (Hawari 2007: Appendix II); and 24 inscriptions from various buildings (other than those associated with surviving buildings), fortifications, tombs, etc., have also survived (Hawari 2007, Appendix IV). Fieldwork was supplemented by scanning the historical sources and the archival material, seeking information with regard to these buildings. In this paper, I focus on four buildings where archaeological investigation revealed new findings and refuted old views. These are: the Double Gate of Bab al-Silsila/Bab al-Sakina (1198–99), the Qubbat Sulayman (ca. 1200), the Qubba Nahawiyya (1207–8), and the Madrasa Muʿazzamiyya (1217–18) (see the map, fig. 1). While these buildings contain many characteristic features of Ayyubid and Crusader architecture in Jerusalem, they pose archaeological and architectural problems. The fact that the first two buildings include many Crusader architectural spolia has sparked a controversy among scholars with regard to their identification and date—whether they are Crusader or Ayyubid. Bab al-Silsila/Bab al-Sakina The double gate of Bab al-Silsila (“the Gate of the Chain”) and Bab al-Sakina (“the Gate of the Holy Spirit”), on the western border of the Haram al-Sharif, has long served as the main entrance to the holy precinct (fig. 1). Topographically, it forms part of the ancient east–west artery of Jerusalem, the only direct connection between the Citadel inserted within the walls of the Upper City and the Haram. It crosses the town’s central street, al-Wad (Tyropoeon Valley), on a massive ancient causeway, of which the easternmost arch, now known as Wilson’s Arch, survives a few meters below the level of the present street. This gate was called Bab Dawud (Gate of David) in the Early Islamic period and was listed by various Arab chroniclers, such as Ibn al-Faqih (903), Ibn ʿAbd Rabbihi (ca. 913), al-Muqaddsi (ca. 985), and the Persian traveler Nasir-i Khusraw (1047). The latter described the double gate as being adorned with mosaics and an inscription of a Fatimid Caliph of Egypt. In the Crusader period, the gate was referred to by Frankish chroniclers as “the beautiful gate” ( porta speciosa). The gate complex comprises two main components. The first is an outer porch of two domed bays leading to two monumental doorways decorated with considerable quantities of reused Crusader sculptural details. The second is an inner porch, which constitutes a part of the west portico of the Haram. A rectangular central pier divides the outer porch into two bays, each with a double frontal arch and covered with a short barrel vault and a dome. At Bab al-

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Fig. 1.  Map showing the four Ayyubid buildings in the Old City of Jerusalem: (1) Bab al-Silsila/ Bab al-Sakina; (2) Qubbat Sulayman; (3) Qubba al-Nahawiyya; (4) Madrasa al-Muʿazzamiyya.

Silsila the dome has squinches in the zone of transition comprising fluted conches surmounted by various reused architectural pieces, such as voussoirs and cornices (fig. 2). At Bab al-Sakina the dome has four sqinches in the zone of transition that are made of fluted conches surmounted with duplex corner arches. The two monumental doorways of the gate, which have been inserted into an older, round-headed double gate are decorated with a large quantity of Crusader sculptural details (fig. 3). The two openings are spanned by semicircular arches with voussoirs, having a distinctive chamfer cut at 45 degrees across the lower edge. Their semicircular profile suggests that they were erected before the end of the 8th century, when pointed

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Fig. 2.  Bab al-Silsila, looking east.

arches were introduced to Palestine (Creswell 1969: 161–65; Burgoyne 1992: 124). Burgoyne ascribes this gateway, along with three other gates—Bab al-Nazir, Bab alʿAtm, and Bab Hitta—that share the same distinctive features, to the Umayyad period when the Haram was being developed as a major Islamic religious center at the time of the construction of the Dome of the Rock in 691–92 (1992: 122–24, fig. 7). The jambs of the doors are adorned with two tiers of marble columns resting on moulded pedestals. The columns are crowned with capitals and imposts carved with a variety of vegetal and floral foliage, geometric motifs, as well as figurative images representing Crusader sculptural traditions in Jerusalem (fig. 3). It is quite apparent that the individual variable elements of the gateway are not homogeneous but were taken from different Crusader structures and assembled together.

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Fig. 3.  Bab al-Sakina, looking east.

The inner porch of the gateway consists of two vaults that are open to the Haram and built against the outer, western enclosure wall. The porch is incorporated into the West Portico, built in the Mamluk period (Burgoyne and Richards 1987: 192–93, fig. 12.2). The presence of extensive Crusader sculpture in the construction of the gate has led a number of scholars to attribute the double gate to the Crusader period. Among these is Buschhausen, who carried out an art-historical evaluation and considers the ornamental sculptural details (Bauplastik) at Bab al-Silsila/Bab al-Sakina (and at other structures around the Haram) to be largely Crusader creations, ascribing them to south Italian artists in Jerusalem working under Frederick II’s patronage (ca. 1230–39) (Buschhausen 1978: 143–45). However, Buschhausen’s work suffers from a lack of measurements and archaeological analysis. A thorough examination of the archaeological evidence of the abundant Crusader sculptural details reveals that the variable fragmentary pieces were put together and incorporated into the structure of the gateway during the

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Fig. 4.  Qubbat Sulayman façade, looking south.

Ayyubid period. At Bab al-Sakina, where there are three capitals on each side of the two tiers, two identical engaged capitals and their imposts were joined by a third, different capital and impost. As a result, no continuity in the carved motifs exists (fig. 3). In addition to the structural consideration, epigraphic evidence clearly shows that the gate was largely rebuilt by the Ayyubids. Above the northern lateral arch of Bab al-Sakina is an inscription of four lines of Ayyubid naskhi script carved on two adjoining tabulae ansatae. It is associated with the construction of a Qurʾan school for orphans nearby in 595/1198–99 (van Berchem 1922: 110–11). Since the inscription is in situ, this date can serve as a terminus post quem for the construction. It is plausible that the outer porch of Bab al-Silsila/Bab al-Sakina was erected some time after Salah al-Din’s conquest of Jerusalem in 583/1187 and before 595/1198–99.

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Fig. 5.  Qubbat Sulayman, ground plan.

Qubbat Sulayman The Qubbat Sulayman is located in the north part of the Haram esplanade (fig. 1). Although the domed structure lacks a foundation inscription, it has been identified by chroniclers from the 8th/14th century onward as Qubbat Sulayman, although sometimes with some confusion. Literary sources of the 5th/11th century refer to the site as Kursi Sulayman. Nonetheless, it has also been identified by late 19th/ early 20th century scholars and archaeologists as Kursi ʿIsa (Throne of Jesus). Early Islamic traditions have associated the site of Qubbat Sulayman with King Solomon and his construction of the Temple (Ibn al-Murajja, fol. 30b, 78; Nasir-i Khusraw, 70). This free-standing domed structure (9.33 m high) consists externally of three distinct “storeys.” An octagonal base supports a transitional zone carrying a round dome, slightly pointed and surmounted by a simple finial (fig. 4). The northeast and northwest sides are pierced by large arched grilled windows, while the north side contains the entrance door. A moulded archivolt runs around the arch in angular downturns at each side. The zone of transition is set back externally from the octagon and is pierced with pointed, arched windows placed centrally over each side of the octagon. A cavetto moulding runs above the arched windows (fig. 4).

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The entrance door is set in a recess with a high marble column resting on a pedestal on either side. Above the monolithic door lintel there is a relieving lintel. Inside, the natural bedrock projecting beyond the floor, now surrounded by a modern iron railing, is most likely the famous rock known as “Kursi Sulayman,” referred to by Arab chroniclers of the early and later Islamic periods as being associated with King Solomon. Along the sidewalls, there are raised benches on which stood 24 marble columns in the corners of the octagon. Each corner of the octagon has two engaged columns on either side of a pier, excluding the qibla and north sides, where there are only two columns (see plan, fig. 5). The column capitals seem to be reused Crusader material belonging to the same decorative type: each is carved with three tiers of simple leaves. The mihrab, in the center of the qibla wall, is concave and set in a recess, flanked by two small marble columns. The columns are crowned by Corinthian capitals, which are probably Crusader in origin and are similar to two reused capitals in the Dome of the Rock (Buschhausen 1978: pls. 314, 315). The mihrab appears to be homogeneous with the masonry of the entire qibla wall, which makes it an integral part of the original fabric of the structure. This finding is of great significance, because it leaves no doubt that the structure was built as a Muslim shrine. In other words, it rules out a Crusader date in favor of an Ayyubid one (Burgoyne and Richards 1987: 48, pl. 8). The question of identification of Qubbat Sulayman has been investigated by various archaeologists and scholars. The building was called by Schick (in his time) “the small Rock” (al-sakhra al-saghira) (1887: 36) and by van Berchem “the piece of the Rock“(shaqfat al-sakhra) (1925: 207, n. 2). It has also been identified as “Throne of Jesus” (Kursi ʿIsa) by Le Strange (1890: 172), Vincent and Abel (1922: 604–8), and Bahat (1990: 179). Van Berchem, who thoroughly investigated the Qubbat Sulayman, refrains from calling it Kursi ʿIsa. He argues that the name must have mistakenly derived from al-Muʿazzam ʿIsa, who restored the adjacent North Portico of the Haram (van Berchem 1925: 210). Ibn al-Murajja and Nasir-i Khusraw’s 11th-century accounts indicate that there was no structure above the rock identified then as Kursi Sulayman. In other words, their accounts could serve us as a terminus post quem for the construction of the domed structure. Furthermore, al-ʿUmari’s account could serve as a terminus ante quem. Consequently, it is possible to narrow down the date of construction to between 1047 (Nasir-i Khusraw) and 1345 (al-ʿUmari), a time span of about 200 years, which covers the Crusader, Ayyubid, and the early Mamluk periods. However, the motive behind the construction of Qubbat Sulayman is likely to have been based on an early Muslim tradition that associated the rock with King Solomon. It is evident that after the Frankish conquest of Jerusalem in 1099, the Aqsā Mosque was converted into the Templum Solomonis, linking the site to the biblical Solomon. Yet, as far as we know, no Christian tradition relating the rock to Solomon is mentioned in the Frankish sources. This implies that Qubbat Sulayman was likely to have been built by Muslims, either in the Ayyubid or the early Mamluk period rather than the Crusader period. In order to date Qubbat Sulayman more precisely, we have to rely on architectural evidence and look for stylistic parallels. Although the structure contains

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Fig. 6.  Qubba al-Nahawiyya, general view looking northeast.

typical Crusader architectural elements, they appear here in secondary use. The mihrab seems to be an integral part of the structure, seemingly an indication of Ayyubid construction. Several features—such as the octagonal base raised on rebated pointed arches, the corner column capitals, the fluted conches in the zone of transition, and the general octagonal design of the domed structure––are very similar to those in Qubbat al-Miʿraj (1200–1201) and the Church of the Ascension on the Mount of Olives (began in ca. 1130) (Vincent and Abel 1914–26: II, 361, fig. 155; Kühnel 1977: 46–48, fig. 1). However, these features are not prevalent in the domed structures of the later Ayyubid period, such as the Qubba al-Nahawiyya (1207–8), Qubbat Musa (1249–50), and Qubba al-Qaymuriyya (before 1251), or in the early Mamluk Qubba al-Kubakiyya (ca. 1289) (Burgoyne and Richards 1987: 141–43, no. 6). Thus, it would appear that the actual date of construction of Qubbat Sulayman probably falls between 1200 and 1208. Qubba al-Nahawiyya The Qubba al-Nahawiyya (also known as Nahawiyya Madrasa), is situated within the Haram al-Sharif, at the southwest corner of the Dome of the Rock platform (fig. 1).

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An inscription found in the interior of the building mentions that “the dome (qubba) and the adjacent reconstruction was constructed” by al-Muʿazzam ʿIsa, son of the sultan al-ʿAdil in 604/1207–8) (van Berchem 1925: 62). Al-Muʿazzam ʿIsa endowed the dome (qubba) with great waqfs so that it would be used for the teaching of the seven readings (versions of the Qurʾan) and Arabic grammar (nahw) (Ibn Wasil IV, 211–12). Al-Muʿazzam appointed 25 hanafi students of grammar (nahw) and their shaykh and endowed a village called Bayt Liqya, in the Jerusalem district as waqf for the benefit of this institution (al-ʿUmari, 145–46; Mujir al-Din I, 403). The building consists of two structurally independent components on two levels: the upper floor, at the level of the Dome of the Rock terrace, contains two domed chambers with a connecting hall. The main elaborate entrance is almost in the center of the north side. Another simple entrance opens into the east chamber. It is clear that substantial restoration and alterations were carried out on the north façade. The lower floor, at the level of the Haram esplanade, comprises two aisles of four cross-vaulted bays separated from one another by transverse arches (fig. 6). The present façade of the domed structure shows differing styles of masonry indicating at least three main phases of construction. The first and original façade comprised three open archways, probably as part of a portico, extending between the western and eastern domed chambers of the structure. In the second phase, the archways were filled in with masonry, except for small doorways with simple monolithic lintels, as can be seen in a photograph of the Ordnance Survey of Jerusalem (Wilson 1865: pl. 5b). To this phase belongs the Ottoman Sabil al-Husaini of which only the inscription plaque survived, dated to 1724–25 (Natsheh 2000: Catalogue no. 45, 966–67). The third phase is represented by the present-day distinctive, elaborate portal placed almost in the center of the façade. This portal is missing from Wilson’s photograph of 1865 but it appears in another photograph in the collection of the American Colony in Jerusalem dated to 1889. Therefore, it must have been inserted between 1865 and 1889. Perhaps it can be dated to the repair work carried out in the Haram by the Ottoman sultan ʿAbd al-Hamid in the late 1870s. Since the Nahawiyya was built at the edge of the terrace of the Dome of the Rock, the south and west elevations consist of two “storeys,” of which the lower storey also serves as part of the revetment wall supporting the corner of that terrace. Both elevations are constructed homogeneously of whitish smoothly dressed ashlars, except for the eastern part of the wall (figs. 6 and 7). Much of the masonry is reused. Many of the stones bear distinctive traces of Crusader workmanship: diagonal tooling and a considerable number of masons’ marks. The lower storey of the south elevation is supported by four buttresses with sloping tops. Like the south elevation, the upper storey is pierced with three windows surmounted by monolithic lintels and relieving arches similar to those in the north wall. The lintels are carved with a “fish-scale” motif. The high dome of the west chamber has a cylindrical drum, with a series of brackets that support a projecting cavetto cornice at the base of the dome. The shallow dome of the east chamber, a typical feature in the Ottoman architecture of Jerusalem, is built of small stones and surmounted with a crescent stone finial. The

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Fig. 7.  Qubba al-Nahawiyya: ground plan, with the extension of west wall of the Dome of the Rock platform.

dome and the whole chamber were almost certainly rebuilt in the Ottoman period, replacing the original domed chamber. The small plaque with an inscription in Ottoman naskhi script on the exterior wall of the central hall, near the northeast corner of the western chamber, clearly refers to a sabil, which no longer exists, built by a certain Hasan b. al-Dani, a member of the Husayni family who served as qadi of Jerusalem, in the year AH 1137 (1724–25) (a chronogram) (van Berchem 1925: 67; Natsheh 2000: 966–67). The main entrance door leads directly into a vaulted hall, which consists of three cross-vaulted bays separated by transverse arches. The western domed chamber, which is almost square, is lit by the recessed arched windows in the west and

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Fig. 8.  Madrasa alMuʿazzamiyya street frontage, looking west.

south walls. The transition from square base to circular drum is effected by means of squinches, surrounded by duplex arches. The transition from the octagonal cornice to the circular drum is made by eight small fluted conches forming miniature squinches above the corners of the octagon. The squinch in the north wall contains a semicircular marble plaque with an inscription (van Berchem 1925: 61–62). The squinch in the east wall has a stone medallion carved with intricate straps. This stage culminates in a cavetto cornice. The eastern domed chamber, square in plan, is entered also through an exterior door in the north wall. The shallow dome rests on corner pendentives. On the lower level, the entrance door leads into a long, cross-vaulted corridor from which doors open onto a series of cross-vaulted cells separated by partition walls. Originally, access to the cells was possible through the archways, but these were blocked save for openings for doors, later turned into windows. Beyond the southeastern cell, extending east–west, a passage with a series of semicircular arches, each made of voussoirs with a chamfer, was revealed. Because the roofing above

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Fig. 9.  Madrasa alMuʿazzamiyya, ground plan.

these arches is made of large stone slabs, it is possible to conclude that they may have been constructed to support the elevated terrace of the Dome of the Rock. The type of arch used here is distinctively similar to those in the Haram gates of Bab alSilsila/Bab al-Sakina, Bab al-ʿAtm, and Bab Hitta, which were probably constructed in the Umayyad period (Burgoyne 1992: 122, 124). The lower part of the west elevation of the Nahawiyya, with its distinctive, smoothly dressed whitish ashlars and buttresses, seems to continue northward. A stretch of this wall extends northward from the flight of stairs of the Southwest Colonnade to the Ottoman Dajjani Khilwa and is supported by six buttresses; one is included in the rear wall of another Ottoman two-storey cell (khilwa) at the north

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Fig. 10.  Madrasa al-Muʿazzamiyya, elevation of street frontage.

side of the flight of stairs (see fig. 7). The buttresses are placed at equal intervals. The same type of wall appears once again to the north of the Sahrij of al-Muʿazzam ʿIsa as the eastern section of the south wall of the West Colonnade (951–52) leading up to the west entrance of the Dome of the Rock. It is very likely that the wall section supporting the terrace of the Dome of the Rock is “the adjacent reconstruction” work undertaken by al-Muʿazzam, as explicitly mentioned by the foundation inscription of the Nahawiyya. Perhaps this wall was originally built by the Umayyad Caliph ʿAbd al-Malik at the same time as the Dome of the Rock’s construction. Madrasa al-Muʿazzamiyya The Madrasa al-Muʿazzamiyya, which has partially survived among a cluster of old and modern houses, is situated on the Via Dolorosa opposite the entrance to the covered Tariq Bab al-ʿAtm, north of the Haram al-Sharif (figs. 1, 8).

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A modern entrance doorway from the street leads into a vestibule, from which a long and narrow corridor extends and connects with an open courtyard. The latter is surrounded on three sides by cells and a high and deep iwan on the fourth, north side. A small, open-air cemetery with five tombs occupies the southwest part of the madrasa. In the south (qibla) wall of the cemetery, at the level of the first floor, is a free-standing mihrab, the only vestige of a mosque hall on the upper floor. There are modern structures on the east side of the building and old rooms, which appear to be Ottoman, on the west side. The wall of the street frontage is built with large rusticated stones in its lower part and small ashlar stones in its upper part. It is pierced by a grilled window set within a blocked archway and opening onto the cemetery. The square stone tower of a minaret stands on the left side of the entrance doorway (fig. 9). According to a dedication inscription found in the courtyard of the building, it was constructed in 614/1217–18 by al-Malik al-Muʿazzam ʿIsa (van Berchem 1925: 170–71), although Mujir al-Din reports it was endowed in 1209–10 (I, 405; II, 42). A mosque was built on the first floor of the madrasa; this can be deduced from an inscription found on the south face of what survived from the minaret recording that it was constructed by al-Malik al-Qahir, al-Muʿazzam ʿIsa’s son, who served as the administrator of the Muʿazzamiyya Madrasa, in 1274–75 (van Berchem 1922: 173–6; Mujir al-Din, I, 400; Burgoyne and Richards 1987: 127). In the present three-storey-high frontage, four different types of masonry have been used. The first is the large rusticated or bossed masonry in the lower part of the wall, eight courses high (figs. 8, 10). Numerous scholars and travelers believed this section of the wall belonged to a pre-Islamic structure. Tobler and Hanauer claimed that this wall was part of the corner tower of the Herodian Antonia (Tobler 1853: I, 634–36; Hanauer 1926: 219–20, pl. 130). De Saulcy interpreted this wall as part of the funerary monument of Alexander Jannaeus (1882: 172–73). More recently, when Burgoyne and Richards described the minaret built atop this large masonry, they suggested more cautiously that it was “ancient and may be in secondary use” (1987: 127). An architectural analysis of the street frontage aiming to clarify the sequence of construction was carried out (fig. 10). There are no less than four different phases of construction in the present building, corresponding to four different types of masonry. The first is the above-mentioned eight courses of large rusticated or bossed masonry in the lower part of the wall. This masonry is common elsewhere in and around Jerusalem during the Crusader and Ayyubid periods, particularly in fortifications. The second is masonry of smaller ashlars and rubble in the center part of the wall, which includes the base of the minaret (Burgoyne and Richards 1987: 127–28). The third is a small, finely dressed course of ashlars in the upper section. The masonry of the two lower parts belongs to one stage in the sequence of construction when the mosque and the minaret were added in 1274–75. The masonry of the upper part belongs to an adjacent Ottoman structure (now in ruins), of which an elaborately moulded window jamb can be seen from the street below. The minaret, of which only the lower part survives, belongs to the traditional, square Syrian type (Burgoyne and Richards 1987: 127–28, no. 4).

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The original structure of the madrasa has partially survived and much of its upper floors date back to the Ottoman period and modern times. The ground plan shows the arrangement of a north iwan and cells or chambers around three sides of the courtyard (fig. 9). A large and impressive iwan on the north side dominates the courtyard. It has a deep tunnel vault measuring 11.43 m deep, 7.18 m wide, and 9.50 m high. Its façade has a pointed frontal arch composed of two sets of voussoirs, each 0.38 cm wide in the outer arch and 0.31 cm wide in the inner arch. The springers of the arch are supported by two moulded marble imposts, apparently in secondary use. Each impost has a mason’s mark in the shape of a crescent. It is quite possible that the imposts are of Crusader origin, though the mason’s marks might have been added by the Muslim craftsmen of the madrasa. On the right-hand side of the façade, the foundation inscription consists of a marble slab set within a moulded frame. The inscription measures 1.30 m × 0.60 m and has four lines of Ayyubid naskhi script (van Berchem 1925: 170–73). On the left side of the façade, the original masonry has been replaced by white modern marble stones. Here, according to van Berchem, another foundation inscription existed but disappeared between 1893 and 1905 (van Berchem 1925: 173). An architectural analysis of the inner face of the south wall of the open-air cemetery mirrors the three stages of construction of the street frontage: 1. The earliest construction, which may be dated to the Ayyubid period, included a main assembly hall/tomb chamber covered either by a cross- or barrel-vault and lit by the grilled windows (see elevation, fig. 10). 2. The second stage appears to have incorporated the mosque hall on the first floor above the assembly hall/tomb chamber with its attached mihrab and minaret at the southeast corner. The minaret itself is dated by inscription to the work of al-Malik al-Qahir in 1274–75, and the mosque hall and mihrab may be attributed to the same date. We can assume that the builders thought that the earlier street frontage was neither thick nor strong enough to carry the weight of the minaret and the mosque hall on the first floor. They must have decided to thicken the street frontage by erecting a massive wall of rusticated masonry along its outer face. In the process, they blocked the small east window, enlarged and remodeled the large middle window, and kept the small west window. 3. Presumably as a result of an earthquake, both roofs of the assembly hall/ tomb chamber, the mosque hall, and the muezzin’s gallery of the minaret collapsed. It is not, however, clear when this earthquake occurred. The hall must have become a cemetery during the second half of the 9th/15th century, when more tombs were added.

Conclusion Under the Ayyubids, both geopolitical and religious factors determined the appearance of the newly restored city of Jerusalem. Local traditions that survived from the Early Islamic period continued to be employed, despite the Frankish interruption. The restoration and rebuilding of monuments on the Haram, especially the Dome of the Rock and the Aqsa Mosque, were in most cases faithful to their

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original architectural forms and decorative arts. This is reflected in the rebuilding of the Haram gates, the Southeast Colonnade, and in the principle of erecting commemorative domes. As recreated by the Ayyubids of Syria after nearly nine decades of Frankish presence, Jerusalem’s architecture indicates a number of different local and regional influences. Of the three Ayyubid regional centers—Cairo, Damascus, and Aleppo— the last two undoubtedly had the largest influence. Jerusalem drew more on Aleppo when it came to the fine and skilled stone-cutting, reflecting a stark plainness and sobriety of taste. This is quite apparent at both the Qubba al-Nahawiyya and the Madrasa al-Muʿazzamiyya. But in general, type, scale, and size all relate the buildings of Jerusalem more closely to the Ayyubid monuments elsewhere in Syria. As a provincial but politically and religiously important city, Jerusalem with its ostentatious monuments, the Dome of the Rock and the Aqsa Mosque, developed functional architecture for both its religious and civic buildings. Although sponsored by senior members of the Ayyubid family, as well as by local governors and amir s, none exhibit either the scale or the affluence of comparable Syrian or Egyptian structures. In fact, they are characterized by a great deal of austerity and plainness. According to my analysis, the buildings in Jerusalem are very similar to their counterparts in Syria. We may therefore assume that the architects of these monuments came from Syrian cities, particularly from Damascus. Precisely because Jerusalem during most of the Ayyubid period was included in the principality of Damascus, the rulers of Damascus were likely to summon their architects to the Holy City for the execution of their acts of patronage. Furthermore, the Franks left their mark on the architecture of Jerusalem. Many Crusader buildings, known from the historical sources to have been elaborately decorated with architectural sculptural details, have entirely vanished. The conversion of entire Crusader buildings to Islamic uses characterized the first decade of Ayyubid rule in Jerusalem. Certain features of Crusader architecture are distinctive––Romanesque in style, with typical masons’ marks and diagonal stone-dressing that facilitate identification. However, fragments of Crusader sculptural details and spolia such as marble columns, capitals, imposts, mouldings and simple masonry were incorporated into Ayyubid constructions, as in Bab al-Silsila, Bab al-Sakina, and Qubbat Sulayman, and were commonly reused throughout the later Islamic periods. In addition, numerous Crusader construction methods and decorative elements were employed extensively, such as the cushion arch, the chevron arch, the elbow capital, and the corbel or bracket. It is not surprising, however, that Hamilton identified the work of the period as “Crusader and Ayyubid” as he found it difficult with regard to the Aqsā Mosque to distinguish between Crusader work in situ and in secondary use (Hamilton 1949: 47). In general, Jerusalem witnessed a great renaissance in Islamic architecture and the introduction of new socioeconomic institutions, which was to determine the character of the city until the present day. Despite the war situation and the continuous Frankish invasions, the Arab regions under Ayyubid rule witnessed a great revival in various aspects of cultural life, including architectural activity. Ayyubid

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architecture is generally characterized by the trend of austerity and the use of minimal decoration, by a high quality of construction with well-cut stones as the principal material. Far beyond the historical context, the architecture of the Ayyubids in Jerusalem, the ideas it embodied, and their related institutions and economic support system (waqf   ) had a far-reaching influence on the city’s architecture for the subsequent Mamluk and Ottoman periods.

References Abu­ Shama 1947 Al-dhayl ʿala al-rawdatayn (tarajim al-qarnayn al-sadis wal-sabiʿ. 2 vols., ed. I. alHusayni. Cairo: al-Qahirah. Al-Muqaddasi 1906 Ahsan al-taqasim fi maʾrifat al-aqalim, ed. M. J. de Goeje. Leiden: Bril. Al-ʿUmari 1924 Masalik al-absar fi mamalik al-amsar, ed. A. Zaki. Cairo: Dar al-Kutub al-Misriyah. Bahaʾ al-Din 1891 Al-nawadir al-sultaniyya waʾl-mahasin al-yu­sufiyya (The Life of Saladin), trans. C. R. Conder. London: Palestine Pilgrims Texts Society. Bahat, D. 1990 The Topography and Toponomy of Crusader Jerusalem. Unpublished Ph.D. dissertation. Jerusalem: Hebrew University. [Hebrew] Burgoyne, M. H. 1992 The Gates of the Haram al-Sharif. Pp. 105–24 in Bayt al-Maqdis, ʿAbd al-Malik’s Jerusalem, Part I, ed. J. Raby and J. Johns. Oxford: Oxford University Studies. Burgoyne, M. H., and Richards, D. S. 1987 Mamluk Jerusalem. London: World of Islam Festival Trust. Creswell, K. A. C. 1969 Early Muslim Architecture. 2nd revised edition of vol. I in 2 parts. Oxford: Clarendon. Buschhausen, M. 1978 Die Süditalienische Bauplastik im Königreich Jerusalem. Vienna: Verlag der österreichischen Akademie der Wissenschaften. Hamilton, R. W. 1949 The Structural History of the Aqsa Mosque. London: published for the Government of Palestine by Oxford University Press. Hanauer, J. R. 1926 Walks in and around Jerusalem. 2nd edition. London: Society for Promoting Christianity amongst the Jews. Hawari, M. 2007 Ayyubid Jerusalem (1187–1250): An Architectural and Archaeological Study. BAR International Series 1628. Oxford: Archaeopress. Ibn al-Athir 1987 Al-kamil fi’l-tarikh. Beirut: Dar Sader. Ibn al-Murajja 1995 Fadaʾil Bayt al-Maqdis waʾl-Sham waʾl-Khalil, ed. O. Livne-Kafri. Shfaram: Dar al-Mashreq. Ibn Wasil 1953 Mufarrij al-kuru­b fi akhbar bani ayyub, vol. IV, ed. J. al-Shayyal. Cairo: al-Matbaʿah al-Amiriyah. 1972 Mufarrij al-kuru­b fi akhbar bani ayyub, vol. II ed. H. M. Rabiʾ. Cairo: Matbaʿat Dar al-Kutub.

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ʿImad al-Din 1904 Al-fath al-qussi fiʾl-fath al-qudsi. [No editor]. Cairo: Matbaʿat al-Mawsuʿat. Kühnel, B. 1977 Crusader Sculpture at the Ascension Church on the Mount of Olives in Jerusalem. Gesta 16.2: 41–50. Le Strange, G. 1890 Palestine under the Moslems. London: Palestine Exploration Fund. Mujir al-Din 1973 Al-uns al-jalil fi tarikh al-Quds waʾl-Khali. Amman: Maktabat al-Muhtasib. Nasir-i Khusraw 1986 Book of Travels (Safarname), trans. and ed. W. N. Thakstone. [Albany, N.Y.]: Bibliotheca Persica. Natsheh, Y. 2000 The Architecture of Ottoman Jerusalem, in: Auld, S & Hillenbrand, R. (eds.), Ottoman Jerusalem, the Living City 1517–1917, vol. 1, chap. 36, 583–655, London: Altajir World of Islam Trust. Saulcy, F. de 1882 Jérusalem. Paris: Librairie Académique. Schick, C. 1887 Beit el Makdas oder alte Tempelplatz zu Jerusalem: Wie er jetzt ist, Mit einem Anhang Und artistischen Beilagen. Jerusalem: Im Selbstverlag des Verfassers. Theodoric 1891 Description of the Holy Places (ca. 1172), vol. V, trans. A. Stewart. London: Palestine Pilgrims Texts Society. Tobler, T. 1853 Topographie von Jerusalem und seinen Umgebungen, vol. I. Berlin: G. Reimer. Van Berchem, M. 1922 Matériaux pour un Corpus Inscriptionum Arabicarum. Deuxième partie: Syrie du Sud, vol. II. Jérusalem ‘Ville.’ MIFAO 43. Cairo: Institute Francais d’archéologie orientale. 1925 Matériaux pour un Corpus Inscriptionum Arabicarum, Deuxième partie: Syrie du Sud, vol. II: Jérusalem ‘Haram.’ MIFAO 44. Cairo: Institute Francais d’archéologie orientale. Vincent, L. H., and Abel, F. M. 1914–26  Jérusalem : Recheches de topographie, d’archéologie et d’histoire, vol: II: Jérusalem Nouvelle, 4 fascs. + album. Paris: J. Gabalda. Wilson, C. 1865 Ordnance Survey of Jerusalem. London: Eyre and Spottiswoode. Reprinted, Jerusalem: Ariel, 1980.

Mamluk and Ottoman Jerusalem Robert Schick

The University of Bamberg

The objective of this article is to present the current state of research on the physical remains in Jerusalem during the Mamluk and Ottoman periods, to discuss what is known and what remains to be investigated.

Archaeological Excavations The Mamluk and Ottoman periods provide only limited data derived from archaeological excavations. Some of the sites surveyed by A. Kloner (2000; 2001; 2003) and salvage projects carried out by the Israel Antiquities Authority include Mamluk and Ottoman finds, most of which have been of a distinctly underwhelming nature. Salvage projects are reported briefly in almost every issue of Hadashot Arkheologiyot – Excavations and Surveys in Israel (now online at www.hadashot-esi​ .org.il), and it would serve little purpose to list them all here. A few other projects have produced results that have been published. The Kenyon-Tushingham excavation between 1692 and 1967 in Area L of the southern Armenian Garden uncovered a khan from the Ayyubid period that fell into ruins in the late Mamluk period (Tushingham 1985: 108–55). The Lux-Vriezen excavations in the Crusader Church of St. Maria Latina (the modern Lutheran Church of the Redeemer) uncovered soil and pavement layers as well as pits from the Mamluk period (Vriezen 1994). G. Wightman’s publication (1989) of the Damascus Gate excavations includes a sizable corpus of post-Crusader pottery. The Old City is mostly built over, so that areas available for excavation are limited. There are, however, a few remaining spots that appear to be promising. An uninvestigated pottery kiln just east of Damascus Gate is attested from 1546 up to the late 19th century (fig. 1; Ghushah 1999a: 35, 483–84). On the surface of a playground west of Herod’s Gate, the grave of ʿAbd al-Karim al-Jurbaji, who died before 1137/1724 (Ghushah 1999a: 34, 455–64), is visible. Further interesting antiquities are almost certainly hidden below the surface. The extensive open area in the extreme northeast corner of the Old City especially would benefit from excavation. Furthermore, exploration below the basement floor level of almost every building in the Old City would presumably produce interesting results. The potential of basement archaeology has revealed itself during recent excavations carried out by H. Barbé and T. De’adle at the Ohel Yizhaq Synagogue site at the southern end of al-Wad Street, where remains of the Mamluk-period Mustahamm Daraj al-ʿAyn were uncovered along with substantial earlier remains (Hadashot Arkheologiyot 119 [2007]), as well as farther north at the Bet Eliyahu site, a Mamluk pottery kiln with later Ottoman remains excavated by R. Abu Raya (1997). 475

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Figure 1.  The Ottoman pottery kiln east of the Damascus Gate.

There have been numerous lost opportunities for excavations of interest for the Mamluk and Ottoman periods as urban renewal has proceeded over the years. The substantial remains of the Bimaristan al-Salahiyah, continuing in use as a hospital into the 18th century, were demolished when the shops of the Aftimos market were built a century ago (see Schick 1902). The Maghrabi neighborhood was bulldozed into oblivion in the first days after the end of the Six-Day War in June 1967 to create the Western Wall plaza, while elsewhere in the Jewish Quarter, the top meters of the late-phase deposits were bulldozed after 1967 before regular excavations proceeded in the lower layers. Little was recorded beyond the remnant of a large medieval building excavated in Stratum 1 of Avigad’s Area A (Geva 2000: 102–6). The shaykh’s tomb noted by H. Geva was left standing at the time of Avigad’s Area W excavations in 1973 (Geva 2000: 131). It is apparently the tomb of Shaykh Muhammad al-Haydari, built in 694/1294–95 or 674/1275–76, as attested by an Arabic inscription (van Berchem 1922: 210–12, no. 69). The ruined building to the west of the tomb torn down by the excavators may have been the zawiyah for members of the Haydari order after whom the neighborhood was named Harat al-Hayadirah (see Mujir al-Din 1999: 2.105; 1973: 2.52). The bulldozing in 1999 for the new grand north entrance to Solomon’s Stables at the southern end of the al-Aqsa Mosque compound removed centuries-old fill that without a doubt contained material of interest (for photographs of the bulldozing

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in action, see the unabashed publication by the Islamists from Umm al Fahm: Salah 2001).

Architecture With the contribution of archaeological excavations so meager, the study of the physical remains from the Mamluk and Ottoman periods largely has to rely on architecture. It is remarkable how little the Old City of Jerusalem has been studied. The Dome of the Rock may have been studied to death, at least with regard to the question of why ʿAbd al-Malik built it. In contrast, the secular buildings in the residential neighborhoods of Jerusalem are largely unknown. What have been investigated in Jerusalem are the major public monuments, especially in M. van Berchem’s studies of the Arabic inscriptions in Jerusalem a century ago (1922; 1925), M. Burgoyne’s study of Mamluk Jerusalem (1987), and the studies of Ottoman Jerusalem by Y. Natsheh and others (in Auld and Hillenbrand 2000). These publications are of fundamental importance, but they document only a few dozen public monuments in the Old City, especially the various structures on the al-Aqsa Mosque compound and the madrasahs that form its northern and western sides. The basic architectural and historical documentation of the al-Aqsa Mosque compound has been completed. Unfortunately, as soon as one distances oneself from the al-Aqsa Mosque compound, the number of buildings studied decreases dramatically. The focus has been on the large public monuments, such as the Mamluk madrasahs along Bab alSilsilah Street, the Citadel, and the Tekkiye Khasseki Sultan, along with just a handful of other buildings, such as the bathhouses studied by Dow (1996). This leaves the vast bulk of the buildings in the Old City unpublished. Y. Natsheh and others have undertaken at least a cursory examination of most of the structures over the years, and an inventory of buildings in the Muslim residential neighborhoods was carrried out discretely a few years ago by Palestinians; however, so far, nothing has appeared in print. Only in the past few years have scholars begun to study the less prominent buildings in the city. Most significant in this context is the work of Palestinian students from the Institute of Islamic Archaeology at al-Quds University, who have written M.A. theses in Arabic documenting some of the Mamluk‑ and Ottomanperiod buildings (for the contribution of Arab scholars in general, see Schick 2001). Notably, M. Ghushah studied the Saʿdi neighborhood (the area between Damascus Gate and Herod’s Gate north of the Via Dolorosa) in his M.A. thesis, published in 1999. His was the first historical and architectural documentation of buildings in one of the residential neighborhoods. However, he examined only 39 of the several hundred buildings in the neighborhood, leaving the bulk of buildings unidentified. In contrast to the historical documentation, which makes use of the Ottoman law-court records, his architectural documentation is much less thorough; in some cases, he only sketchily documented the facades of buildings but not their interiors. In the case of the zawiyah of Shaykh ʿAli al-Khalwati, the most substantial building complex in the neighborhood, founded in 1528, he documented only the

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Figure 2.  The entrance to the zawiyah of Shaykh ʿAli al-Khalwati.

elaborate entrance (fig. 2; Ghushah 1999a: 279–90). Generally speaking, he provided comprehensive documentation for only a handful of buildings in the neighborhood. Most significant is his study of the Khanqah al-Mawlawiyah founded in 1586 (Ghushah 1999a: 353–428), which made use of information revealed during the renovations sponsored by the Markaz al-Istisharat al-Tanmawiyah in the 1990s (Auld and Hillenbrand 2000: 2.805–20). Other neighborhoods of the Old City remain little known. The Bab Hittah Quarter in the northeast area of the Old City in particular is virtually unknown, other than the public monuments along the main street extending westward from Lion’s Gate. A. Abu al-Hawa’s unpublished (2002) study of the Bab al-Nazir neighborhood—the buildings lining the street leading west from the Bab al-Nazir entrance to the al-Aqsa Mosque compound—provides some information that complements Michael Burgoyne’s observations (1987). Numerous buildings in Jerusalem feature interesting doorways and other decorative elements visible along the street. Investigating the interiors, however, is far

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Figure 3.  The entrance to the Zawiyat Hamid.

more difficult. In some cases, there are no elaborate architectural elements inside, but it would still be desirable to produce a floor plan. Finally, numerous decorative elements (see Muhsin 2002) are included within the Ottoman wall. An additional example of a building featuring an elaborate façade, with no available information regarding its interior, is the Zawiyat Hamid/Ribah Awlad Hamid along Tariq al-Wad (fig. 3), first attested in 795/1393 in one of the Haram documents (no. 431; Little 1984: 115). It was endowed by Shams al-Din Muhammad ibn Hamid in the 9th/15th century, but was in ruins in the mid-10th/16th century (Ghushah 2002: 89). In recent centuries, it has been used as a private residence by the Ansari family. Curiously, Christian authors, such as Elzear Horn (1962: 154–55) in the mid-18th century, identified the building as the House of Lazarus, the Poor Man in Luke 16:19–31. One of the most substantial Mamluk and Ottoman buildings in the Old City awaiting architectural documentation is the nearby al-Madrasah al-Jaharkasiyah,

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the elaborately ornamented multi-storey building that spans Tariq al-Wad slightly south of the intersection with the Via Dolorosa (see Burgoyne 1987: 132–33). The building was endowed by the amir Jaharkas al-Khalili, who died in 791/1388. Almost immediately after it was built, Western pilgrims began identifying it as the House of the Rich Man of Luke 16:19–31. A poetic inscription above one of the entrances records its completion as the Dar al-ʿIzz in 1790–91 (Auld and Hillenbrand 2000: 2.981 no. 49). With the beginning of Egyptian rule in the 1830s, the building served as a military hospital, before it was transferred to the Citadel prior to 1892 (al-ʿAsali 1994: 215–20). The Khan al-Batikh (the ‘khan of the watermelons’) on the south side of the ʿAqabat al-Batikh west of Khan al-Zayt Street (fig. 4), is another remarkably wellpreserved but completely undocumented building from Mamluk or Ottoman times, known to have been renovated as a soap factory in 996/1588 (Cohen 1989: 74). The Khan al-Aqbat, built in 1837–38 for Coptic pilgrims over the north end of the Birkat Hammam al-Batraq (Hezekiah’s Pool), is also well-preserved but undocumented (see al-ʿAsali 1982: 91–92 and Stern 1997: 82–83). There are countless other similarly interesting buildings in good condition in the Old City awaiting documentation; there is little point in listing further examples here. The vast bulk of buildings in the Old City lacking elaborate exterior decorations also remains undocumented. These buildings may ultimatively have little to contribute to art-historical studies or architectural studies; indeed, not everyone was impressed by the architecture of the city. The pilgrim Pietro Casola (Newett 1907: 250–51) mentioned in 1494 that “As I went about the city I did not see beautiful dwelling-houses. There are a great number, and they are close together, but they are ugly.”

Renovations Numerous renovations of old buildings have been conducted in the Old City in recent years, with or without formal permits from the Israeli authorities. Substantial amounts of money were provided by Muslim donors to support those activities. Almost every mosque in the Old City has been renovated in recent years. The renovations largely preserve the architectural layout of the building; however, the interior decorations are often completely new. Little is known about how the buildings looked before those modifications. For some of the smaller neighborhood mosques in the Old City, the only information available comes from several brief studies published by F. al-Ansari (1993; 1994a; 1994b; 1994c; 1995) in the very poorly distributed and hardly known publication series of the Department for the Revival of Islamic Heritage in Abu Dis. Buildings Outside the City Walls The city wall of Jerusalem remained derelict throughout the Mamluk period until it was rebuilt in its current form by the Ottoman Sultan Sulayman in the 1530s. (For a recent comparison of the pre-Ottoman and Ottoman wall lines, based on Ottoman court records, see Ghosheh 2004.) But there were always a substantial

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Figure 4.  The interior of the Khan al-Batikh undergoing renovation in 1995.

number of buildings outside the walls, including the Tomb of David compound on Mount Zion, the village of Silwan, the Abu Tor neighborhood to the southwest, and the neighborhood around the Church of the Ascension on the Mount of Olives. In addition to these residential neighborhoods, there were also a number of isolated substantial buildings, such as the khan that the Mamluk sultan al-Zahir Baybars built or renovated in 662/1263–64 outside the city walls, endowed with half of the village of Lifta. The khan had a mosque, a garden, a bread oven, and a flour mill and was established as a well-supported endowment for distributing food to passing travelers and repairing their shoes. For its entrance, Baybars had the door of the palace of the Fatimid caliphs from Cairo brought to the city. But the endowment funds had dissipated by Mujir al-Din’s day at the end of the 15th century (1999: 2.154; 1973: 2.87). Mujir al-Din (1999: 2.494; 1973: 2.369) mentioned it for the last time in 1493–94. The Ottomans may have reused many of its building stones for their rebuilding of the city wall in the 1530s, and perhaps the lions flanking the Lion’s Gate were taken from the khan. In any event, no remains of the khan have been securely identified. Some of those more substantial buildings outside the city walls are identified as qusur in the Arabic sources and were summer residences with vineyards or other

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gardens for Jerusalem’s elite, such as the extravagant one that the judge Taj al-Din Saʿd al-Dayri (died 1487) built in his vineyard near the khan of Baybars (Mujir al-Din 1999: 2.350, 356, 432; 1973: 2.232, 238, 297). Two other such qusur were owned by Shaykh Muhammad al-Khalili, the most prominent Muslim figure in Jerusalem in the early 18th century. One of them was at Karm al-Shaykh, where the Rockefeller Museum is located today; Pierotti (1864: 230–31) noted that visiting Muslim dignitaries would spend the night there before entering the city. His other qasr was in the Baqʿah neighborhood; the Muslim traveler al-Luqaymi noted qusur and gardens there in 1731 (al-ʿAsali 1992: 308). But just how many buildings there were outside the city walls before non-Arab settlement increased in the middle of the 19th century remains to be investigated thoroughly. In an exceptionally interesting passage, Shaykh Muhammad al-Khalili referred to more than 100 strong and mighty qusur. When he endowed his landed property in 1727, he made sure that it would not fall into the hands of the Christian monasteries who were buying up much of the land around the city. As he claimed, Jerusalem was attracting the attention of infidels, so it was necessary that its environs be filled with strong qusur and mighty buildings to intimidate the enemy and destroy his hopes. In earlier times, there had been more than 100 strong and mighty qusur outside the city walls and environs, but their unscrupulous owners were selling both endowed and private property to the infidels, who were demolishing the qusur for their building stones, thereby breaking the hearts of the faithful (Husayni and Abu Layl 1979: 43). Only a few pre-modern structures of a substantial nature survive outside the city walls and have been documented, such as the tombs of al-Qubbah al-Qaymuriyah to the west of the city, and the Qubbah al-Kubakiyah in the Mamilla cemetery, or the zawiyah of Shaykh Jarrah to the north of the city. The large Tomb of David compound on Mount Zion remains only partially studied. The Ottoman zawiyahs on the north side of the compound have been overlooked. (See the unpublished and thus neglected M.A. thesis by A. al-Dajjani [1996]). Extensive documentation of pre-modern buildings outside the city walls is available only for the Mount of Olives, thoroughly studied by R. Abu Raya in his M.A. thesis for the Institute of Islamic Archaeology (1998). His work deserves to be published, because it documents for the first time a number of important but otherwise little-known Islamic buildings: the Tomb of Mary (venerated by both Christians and Muslims), the Zawiyah al-Mansuriyah (founded by Shaykh Mansur, a sufi of the Shadhili order who died in 1656; see also Glück 1916), the Tombs of the Prophets, the tomb of Rabiʿah (not Rabiʿah al-ʿAdawiyah, the famous sufi of the Umayyad period, but rather Rabiʿah bint Ismaʿil al-Dimashqiyah al-Qudsiyah who died in 796 or 801 and was buried on the Mount of Olives), al-Madrasah al-Asʿadiyah (built in 1615–6), the Masʿad ʿIsa (Church of the Ascension), the Mosque of ʿUmar ibn al-Khattab, the Kharrubat al-ʿAshar tree, the graves of the martyrs, the Shrine of the 40 (the tomb of the wife of the amir Tughan al-ʿUthmani from the 1430s–1440s), the tomb of Salman (not Salman al-Farisi, but rather Shaykh Salman, who served at the Nebi Musa shrine near Jericho prior to 1586), and the shrine of Shaykh ʿAnbar (from the Ayyubid period).

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Cemeteries and Burials There were three principal Muslim cemeteries in Jerusalem: the Bab al-Rahmah (Golden Gate) cemetery, extending along the exterior east wall of the Old City with its northern extension, known as the Yusufiyah cemetery, named after the amir Sayf al-Din Qansuh al-Yahyawi who contructed it in 1467; the Sahirah cemetery, named after a Qurʾanic allusion (Q. 79:14) on the hilltop north of the Old City between Damascus Gate and Herod’s Gate, including its eastern extension, referred to as the Cemetery of the Martyrs; and, finally, the Mamilla Cemetery, west of the Old City, which remained in use until the early 20th century (see al-ʿAsali 2000). The existence of another major Muslim cemetery on the Mount of Olives is often ignored (so far only studied by Abu Raya 1999). For the cemeteries of the al-Dajjani family in the Tomb of David compound, see al-Dajjani’s M.A. thesis (1996). Many of the individuals buried in those cemeteries are identified in historical sources, such as in Mujir al-Din’s history and the Ottoman Islamic law court records (see al-ʿAsali 1981; al-Ansari 1986; 1987). However, documentation of the physical features of the cemeteries is lacking—that is, mapping the graves and recording the inscriptions on tombstones. A handful of pre-modern tombstones from the Mamilla cemetery have been published (Nubani 1956; al-ʿAsali 1981: 271–83), but very few from the other cemeteries. While the majority of the tombs in the cemeteries date to the 20th century or the late 19th century, there are some older unidentified tombstones, especially in the Bab al-Rahmah cemetery (fig. 5). There are numerous other cemeteries for other religious groups, but only for the Protestant Cemetery on Mount Zion from the late 19th and early 20th centuries do we have a list of who is buried where (Schultz 1998; 2004). Numerous individuals were buried within the walled Old City. Those who had major funerary monuments built for themselves are known. However, there are many additional unidentified burials. For example, we do not know the identity of the three Mawlawi shaykhs buried in a side room of al-Khanqah al-Mawlawiyah (Ghushah 1999: 407–8). There are also numerous humble burials, such as in the Saʿdi neighborhood, where the grave of Shaykh Mansur (fig. 6) is located in the basement of the house in which he lived (Ghushah 1999: 41, 529–38). It would be worthwhile to document more systematically where exactly these burials are located and who the individuals in question were.

The Islamic Museum The Islamic Museum, located in the southwest corner of the al-Aqsa Mosque compound, has a largely unstudied collection of objects once in use in the various Islamic institutions of Jerusalem and elsewhere (see Abu Khalaf 1998 and Salameh 2004 for the holdings in general). For the Mamluk and Ottoman periods, only the Qurʾan manuscripts have been have been well published (Salameh 2004). The museum director, Khader Salameh, and I are currently cataloging the Arabic inscriptions in the museum. These include several dozen major unpublished ones (Schick and Salameh 2004). The museum was closed in 2000 for renovations and remains

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Figure 5.  An unread Mamluk tombstone in the Bab al-Rahmah cemetery.

closed due to the difficult political situation. The plans to establish a conservation laboratory in the Madrasah al-Ashrafiyah for the museum’s collection of manuscripts also remain stalled.

Early Illustrations and Photographs A number of maps and panoramic scenes of Jerusalem produced in pre-modern times provide interesting information about the city and its buildings. Most useful is the woodcut that E. Reuwich produced to illustrate B. von Breidenbach’s account of his pilgrimage of 1483, published in 1486 (Timm 2006). Reuwich’s panoramic woodcut of Jerusalem as seen from the Mount of Olives appears to be accurate. It would be of interest to examine more carefully each building individually so as to determine whether it can be matched with a known building. Early photographs may also be a valuable resource for buildings that are no longer extant. The potential that the study of early illustrations and photographs has for documenting buildings that are no longer extant was shown by S. Jarrar (1998) with re-

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Figure 6.  Grave of Shaykh Mansur.

gard to the Suq al-Maʿrifah building formerly at the southeast corner of the al-Aqsa Mosque compound. Also awaiting systematic study are the numerous photographs of the no-longer extant Madrasah al-Farisiyah, the two vaulted rooms of possible Fatimid or Crusader origin extending east of the al-Aqsa Mosque building, which Faris al-Din Ilbaki ibn Qutlumalik founded as a madrasah in the mid-14th century (Mujir al-Din 1999: 2.67; 1973: 2.33). The building was demolished during the 1938–43 renovations of the al-Aqsa Mosque building (Hamilton 1949: 48–53). The largest, now demolished, building for which there is only scanty evidence from early photographs is the Zawiyat Abi al-Saʿud. Located in the south part of the Maghrabi neighborhood (the modern-day Western Wall plaza), it was situated where the tourist ramp up to the al-Aqsa Mosque compound is. The zawiyah formerly was a large complex that included the former al-Zawiyah al-Fakhriyah within the southwest corner of the al-Aqsa Mosque compound, where the Islamic Museum is now located. During the course of the Ottoman period, the zawiyah developed into a multi-storey, multi-faceted complex extending along the western enclosure

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wall of the compound. The Abu al-Saʿud family had lived there since the 16th century, when the head of the family was appointed to administer the zawiyah’s endowment. Curiously, the most famous 20th-century member of the Abu al-Saʿud family on his mother’s side was none other than Yasser ʿArafat, who lived in the building for several years as a child (Ghushah 1999b). The building was demolished by the Israelis in 1969, and the current excavations by the Israel Antiquities Authority involving the rebuilding of the tourist ramp have uncovered some traces of this building. Increased awareness of the building and the Maghrabi neighborhood as a whole might have led the Israel Antiquities Authority’s Jerusalem district archaeologist to report less polemically on the current excavations (Baruch 2007). Suffice it here to say that a documented Muslim association of al-Buraq, the animal that the Prophet Muhammad rode on his night journey to the Masjid al-Aqsa, with the southwest corner of the al-Aqsa Mosque compound dates back to the first Muslim authors of the early Islamic period. Barclay’s Gate was identified as the Hittah Gate in the early Islamic period, based on verses from the Qurʾan (Q. 2:55 and 7:161) (see Kaplony 2002: 262–64, 267–70, 427–38, 428–32, 599–600, 607–9). The Mosque of al-Buraq appears to be from the time of the construction of the western portico of the alAqsa Mosque compound and the current Maghrabi Gate in 1313–14 (van Berchem 1927: 115–17, no. 171).

Historical information A vast amount of historical information exists for the Mamluk and Ottoman periods; thus, there is great potential for documenting the buildings of Jerusalem based on historical records. Most important is the well-known history of Mujir alDin, written between 1495 and 1496. A fully critical edition has not yet been produced; the modern editions differ considerably (Mujir al-Din 1973; 1999). More than 800 Mamluk-period documents, most of which date to the 1390s, were found in the Islamic Museum and are well-known (Little 1984). The records (sijillat ) of the Islamic law-court in Jerusalem, however, constitute a vast source of information that is only now beginning to be explored. A major study of the endowment documents found in the Islamic law court records has been prepared by M. Ghushah (2009). The records begin in the first years of the Ottoman period (Salameh 2000) but also contain much information on the preceeding Mamluk period. The Islamic court records are full of cases of property sales and renovations of endowed buildings for which court approval was needed. However, ordinary private residences and other property are documented as well. After the court records have been systematically investigated, almost every building and plot of land should prove to have a documentable history going back to the early 16th century and in many cases even going back to the Mamluk period.

Conclusion All in all, only a small part of Mamluk and Ottoman Jerusalem has been studied. In 1994, K. Bieberstein and H. Bloedhorn published a three-volume work of 1,250

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pages on the archaeological sites and buildings in Jerusalem from the Chalcolithic period to early Ottoman times. We are currently working together to produce an expanded and updated English edition. One of my responsibilities is to complete and expand the entries on the Islamic period monuments and sites and include the Ottoman period down to the mid-19th century. This objective can still be accomplished by one person, although we anticipate our English edition to be around 2,000 pages. However, once every building is documented and the Ottoman lawcourt records and other writtten documents are fully examined, a single lifetime will no longer suffice to study everything. Future editions of our encyclopedia that attempt to be comprehensive will easily mushroom into tens of thousands of pages.

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