My daughter discovered a cool song today at kindergarten from her classmate and namesake, Delaney. It's called "Delaney Talks to Statues" and comes from the album, Fruitcakes, by the legendary Jimmy Buffet. I quite like it and it's particularly cool for my daughter, Delaney, and I. Here's the lyrics:
Delaney talks to statues
As she dances 'round the pool
She chases cats through Roman ruins
And stomps on big toadstools
She speaks a language all her own
That I cannot discover
But she knows I love her so
When I tuck her 'neath the covers
Father, daughter
Down by the water
Shells sink, dreams float
Life's good on our boat
Delaney draws me pictures
She finger paints the sand
We chase the dogs and hop like frogs
Then I do my bad handstands
She's growin' up too fast for me
And askin' lots of questions
Some I know the answers to
And some I'm lookin' for suggestions
Father, daughter
Born by the water
Surf's up, sun's down
Life in a beach town
And some of the things I've seen
Maybe she won't have to see
But there's a lot I want to pass along
That was handed down to me
Delaney talks to statues
As she dances 'round the pool
She chases cats through Roman ruins
And stomps on big toadstools
She speaks a language all her own
Just a little like her mother
And she knows I love her so
When I tuck her 'neath the covers
Father, daughter
Down by the water
Shells sink, dreams float
Life's good on our boat
Shells sink, dreams float
Life's good on our boat
Bakker, Egbert J. "The Making of History: Herodotus’ Historiēs Apodexis." Pages 3-32 in Brill's Companion to Herodotus. Edited by Egbert Bakker, Hans van Wees, and Irene de Jong. Leiden: Brill, 2002.
In "The Making of History: Herodotus’ Historiēs Apodexis," Egbert Bakker publishes his inquiry into the proem of Herodotus’ Histories, specifically setting forth the meanings and connotations of the words ἀπόδεξις and ἱστορίης.
For Bakker, the problem of interpreting the proem is reflected in present controversies over the nature of the whole of Herodotus’ work. Bakker notes that Herodotus’ Histories does not appear to exhibit a consistent methodology, which, if it had, could inform our understanding of Herodotus’ own classification of his work: Ἡροδότου Ἁλικαρνησσέος ἱστορίης ἀπόδεξις ἥδε. Certainly, the modern notions of "publication" and "history," which are sometimes applied to ἀπόδεξις and ἱστορίης respectively, are anachronistic. In view of these anachronisms, Bakker summarizes the work of two recent scholars, Rosalind Thomas and Gregory Nagy, who have attempted to recover the original intellectual context in which the proem, and thus Herodotus’ methodology and work, ought to be situated.
On the one hand, Rosalind Thomas argues, on the basis of semantic and methodological affinities, that Herodotus’ proem belongs to the emerging scientific, medical discourse of the time, exemplified in the Hippocratic corpus. In that context, Herodotus’ work could be classified as a scientific inquiry published in "sessions at which knowledge was transmitted, and contested, orally" (9); the inquiry as ἱστορίης and the sessions as ἀπόδεξις. On the other hand, Gregory Nagy argues that Herodotus’ proem draws on "the general Greek preoccupation with the past" (10). Nagy concludes, on the basis of thematic and semantic affinities, that the Histories share an essential continuity with the Homeric tradition such that ἀπόδεξις denotes a public performance to proclaim the great or glorious deeds of the past (n.b. ἔργα μεγάλα and ἀκλεᾶ in the proem). Moreover, in Nagy’s view, ἱστορίης is a juridical concept in which opposing claims are presented and subjected to a judgment.
While Bakker finds merit in both views, he is ultimately more sympathetic to the views of Nagy. Specifically, Bakker opts to build upon Nagy’s idea of ἱστορίης as a juridical concept, noting that Herodotus is often interested in the difference resulting from the interrogation of informants. For Bakker, ἱστορίης connotes an investigation of the difference between competing views as well as the application of "the power of judgment and discrimination" (15) in order to inform and shape present knowledge and future investigation. Bakker also argues against Thomas’ interpretation of ἀπόδεξις, again choosing to build upon Nagy’s definition of the term and, in addition, drawing his own thematic connection between the term and ἱστορίης. For Bakker, ἀπόδεξις conveys accomplishment or achievement, a definition he defends by appealing to the usage of the word within the Histories itself. Furthermore, Bakker suggests that Herodotus employs the word in the proem to convey two ideas. First, as Nagy suggests, that his inquiry uncovers the glorious accomplishments of the past and, second, emphasized by the presence of the deictic pronoun ἥδε, that his inquiry represents a monumental accomplishment in its own right. Bakker concludes that this latter sense invites the audience, ancient and modern, to engage in their own ἱστορίης.
While Bakker flirts with the etymological fallacy in arriving at his interpretations of ἀπόδεξις and ἱστορίης, he supports his argument with solid exegesis of the Histories. By drawing on internal evidence, Bakker formulates a strong and persuasive case from the words of Herodotus himself. The article also contributes, in more general ways, to understanding the development of the Greek historiographical traditions and the relationship between Herodotus and Thucydides.
For many in biblical studies and archaeology, the excavations of the past half century in Jerusalem and the City of David, leading up and including Eilat Mazar's work, have been a surprise. Few thought, especially once Shiloh's excavations were completed, that much more could turn up. Jerusalem, unlike other sites in Israel and Palestine, is not the most archaeologically friendly site. Two significant problems are that the site remains an active urban center and it is not a traditional tell.
With respect to the former, this has meant that the site has been excavated in small, disparate areas throughout the city rather than a systematic way like one finds, e.g., at Megiddo. Also, some older excavations simply burrowed tunnels underground, a highly disruptive method that, among other things, disturbs the strata by overturning pottery and, in some cases, may have cut right through important structural elements.
With respect to the latter, builders on the summit of the City of David did not simply build over previous settlement layers but actually destroyed and uprooted those settlements to construct new buildings on bedrock. Consequently, as both Shiloh and Kenyon discovered, many sites on the summit have no occupation layers below even the Byzantine period, never mind the early Roman and Hellenistic periods or the OT periods.
At least in part because of these two problems, many excavators, by necessity as well as design, have focused on the slopes of the City of David where the occupational layers are more clearly evident. Interestingly, Mazar's exacavations are located in the same area as previous excavations carried out by Macalister and Duncan at the turn of the 20th century and Kenyon's excavations in the 1960s. I will try to update this post with a picture/map that shows the general area of her excavation. In any case, this means that much of the area she is excavating has been subjected to some of the disruptive methods of an earlier era in archaeology, which must make developing clear stratigraphic relationships, based on the pottery, exceedingly difficult. This complication, and the fact that there is no floor to connect the excavated walls that have been tentatively called David's palace, should encourage caution. What's more, so far as I understand it, the Phoenician-style is not a persuasive typological indicator as this style persists both before and after the date Mazar assigns to her walls; and, the pilaster capital that Kenyon discovered, which is being used to corroborate the date of this building, belonged, according to Kenyon's hypothesis, to a building of the Iron II period. Consequently, none of the evidence so far presented provides a compelling reason to accept Mazar's date, though the collective weight of some of the offered details does seem to support it. For a more certain conclusion, however, scholars will certainly need to see detailed reports, figures, and drawings of the excavated area and a comprehensive ceramics report.
One of the fundamental problems that will no doubt take on increased importance because of Mazar's discovery is the date of the stepped rampart leading up to it. For many years now, a debate has raged among archaeologists of Jerusalem concerning this rampart and, more generally, whether or not the fortifications of the Middle-Bronze Age persisted into Iron I. Along with others, Jane Cahill, a site supervisor on the Shiloh excavations, argues that they did while archaeologists such as Ussishkin and Killebrew have argued against this idea. For more on that debate, I refer you to their respective articles in Jerusalem in Bible and Archaeology: The First Temple Period.
In sum, I'm looking forward to hearing more about Eilat Mazar's discovery. I'm also looking forward to the work of Margareet Steiner, who is publishing and re-evaluating Kenyon's excavations, and I'm interested in the completion of the Qedem series on Shiloh's excavations. Finally, I'd like to see a professional re-evaluation of several early 20th century excavations in Jerusalem by Macalister and Duncan, Crowfoot and Fitzgerald, Weill, Vincent, and others. Scholars will need all of this work in order to make progress on the problems and controversies about tenth century Jerusalem.
I want to interject my own comments into the debate that Jim West and Joe Cathey are carrying on about historical methodology in biblical studies with a couple of points.
(1) Jim repeatedly insists that the Bible is theology and not history. While I understand the point Jim is trying to make and in a sense can agree with him, he presses this idea beyond its limits. His perspective bespeaks a very monolithic and hamfisted take on biblical literature not all that different—flip side of the same coin really—from a Fundamentalist conviction that the Bible is all history. The Bible is a collection of texts written in diverse genres: mythography, etiology and folklore, social and cultic legal material, speeches, historiography, all sorts of poetic genres, allegory, fable and fiction, aphorisms, philosophical discourse, and so on. Certainly, all of these genres are employed by their ancient authors to express truths about their god and that god's relationship to his people and his creation but it is manifestly obvious that the writers had other interests too and that there are different and varied levels of truth claims in the text in accordance with the genres that are employed. To simply classify the Bible as "theology" in the way that Jim seems to do is absurd and, quite frankly, anachronistic. Indeed, I've never read a theology that looked anything like the Hebrew Bible.
(2) To insist, as Jim does, that the Bible must be independently verified by another witness in order to assert any given historical fact is, on the surface, a very prudent and judicious methodology. It is, however, a standard that is ultimately too rigorous and few operate according to it; indeed, I'd argue that the minimalists actually don't either. Documents are at the center of a lot of historical reconstruction and it is not infrequent that only one document comes to bear on a particular matter. The task of the historian is to evaluate the relative reliability of the source under analysis and then judiciously fit its claims into a portrait or reconstruction that best explains all the available evidence. Historians, whether working on the ancient or even the more recent past, rarely have the luxury of a complete and full library of documents and material evidence. There are always judgments to be made and the academy exists to evaluate the quality of those judgments. As it regards the study of the biblical text, this means that scholars must contend with genre and aesthetics, theology and ideology, language and culture. Historical reconstruction that draws on the Bible should not take for granted the historicity of biblical stories but it should not, a priori, deny it pending independent verification. A responsible, and pragmatic, methodology will contextualize and interpret the stories in order to elucidate what claims have historical resonance and then test those claims within the broader context of the ancient world.
PS. If I'm misunderstanding you, Jim, please correct me.
PPS. I ask that my readers don't falsely assume I'm in complete agreement with Dr. Cathey because I am critiquing Jim. Indeed, I would be uncomfortable invoking the names Albright, Wright, and Bright with the same love, esteem, and affection that Dr. Cathey confesses.
Today, I received an email from a spokeswoman of The Shalem Center, one of the organizations supporting Eilat Mazar's dig in Jerusalem. That dig, of course, is the one that recently excavated monumental architecture that could date to the tenth century, which they are tentatively suggesting might be David's Palace. For your interest and with permission, I am reprinting an article to which the spokeswoman pointed me. It was originally published in Azure, which has a clear ideological Tendenz. I'd like to add the caveat that I don't necessarily agree with the analysis in this article and it is an article from an organization that has a financial interest in the excavation. I will likely post a follow-up blog entry this weekend with my initial assessment of what's been presented to the public so far and perhaps a few details not mentioned in the media reports to date.
Facts Underground
DAVID HAZONY
The field of biblical archaeology has been rocked, so to speak, by dramatic new finds in the heart of ancient Jerusalem. For the last few years, a number of respected archaeologists have posited that the biblical accounts of Jerusalem as the seat of a powerful, unified monarchy under the rule of David and Solomon are essentially false. The most prominent of these is Israel Finkelstein, the chairman of Tel Aviv University’s archaeology department, whose 2001 book The Bible Unearthed, written together with Neal Asher Silberman, became an international best seller. The lynchpin of his argument was the absence of clear evidence from the archaeological excavations carried out in Jerusalem over the last century. “Not only was any sign of monumental architecture missing,” he wrote, “but so were even simple pottery shards.” If David and Solomon existed at all, he concluded, they were no more than “hill-country chieftains,” and Jerusalem, as he told the New York Times, was “no more than a poor village at the time.”
But now comes word of a most unusual find: The remains of a massive structure, in the heart of biblical Jerusalem, dating to the time of King David. Eilat Mazar, the archaeologist leading the expedition, suggests that it may be none other than the palace built by David and used by the Judaean kings for over four centuries. If she is right, this would mean a reconsideration of the archaeological record with regard to the early First-Temple period. It would also deal a death-blow to the revisionist camp, whose entire theory is predicated on the absence of evidence in Jerusalem from this period. But is she right?
According to the book of Samuel, when David conquered the Jebusite city of Jerusalem around the year 1000 b.c.e., he did not destroy it, but instead left it standing, including its great citadel to defend the city along its northern approach. In this city, today known as the City of David, a neighborhood just to the south of Jerusalem’s Old City, he added a few things as well–most notably a palace, built by master craftsmen sent by the Phoenician king Hiram of Tyre, who had concluded an alliance with David against their mutual enemy, the Philistines. According to archaeological evidence, Jerusalem was already an ancient city, founded some two thousand years before David arrived, and fortified with walls as much as one thousand years before. Because of its unique topography–a high hill nestled between two deep valleys that converge at its southern point, graced with abundant water from the Gihon spring, and exposed to attack only along a ridge from the north–the location was ideal for the capital of David’s kingdom.
Based on this evidence, coupled with textual clues as to the topography–as described in the book of II Samuel (5:17), when the Philistines mustered in Emek Refaim, David “descended to the citadel,” implying that the palace was higher up on the mountain than the citadel itself–Mazar formulated her proposal as to the location of the palace in a 1997 article in Biblical Archaeology Review. “If some regard as too speculative the hypothesis I shall put forth in this article,” she wrote, “my reply is simply this: Let us put it to the test in the way archaeologists always try to test their theories–by excavation.”
Few living archaeologists were better suited for this mission, as Mazar has extensive experience both in excavations at the City of David and at the Phoenician town of Achziv along the coast north of Haifa. Indicators for the palace would include monumental structures dating to the late-eleventh or early-tenth centuries b.c.e.; distinctive Phoenician-style building, which would have been out of place in the Judean mountains; and a new building created just to the north of the borders of the older Jebusite city–resting on new land, rather than on destruction layers. Of course, any additional archaeological markers, such as inscriptions, pottery shards, or interior architecture, would further confirm such a find. In early 2005, after securing the necessary permits and the support of the Jerusalem-based Shalem Center (which also publishes Azure), the Hebrew University, and the City of David Foundation, Mazar began digging.
The evidence is remarkable. It includes a section of massive wall running about 100 feet from west to east along the length of the excavation, and ending with a right-angle corner that turns south and implies a very large building. Within the dirt fill between the stones of the great wall were found pottery shards dating to the eleventh century b.c.e.; this is the earliest possible date for the walls’ construction. Two additional walls, also large, running perpendicular to the first, contain pottery dating to the tenth century b.c.e.–meaning that further additions were made after the time of David and Solomon or during their reign, suggesting that the building continued to be used and improved over a period of centuries. The structure is built directly on bedrock along the city’s northern edge, with no archaeological layers beneath it–a sign that this structure, built two millennia after the city’s founding, constituted a new, northward expansion of the city’s northern limit. And it is located at what was then the very summit of the mountain–a reasonable place indeed for the palace from which David “descended.”
This immediate evidence fits well with other archaeological finds from the site, as well. In 1963, the renowned archaeologist Kathleen Kenyon reported finding a Phoenician “proto-Aeolic capital,” or decorative stone column head dating to the same period, at the bottom of the cliff atop which the new excavation has taken place. Kenyon wrote that this capital, along with other cut stones she found there, were “typical of the best period of Israelite building, during which the use of Phoenician craftsman was responsible for an exotic flowering of Palestinian architecture. It would seem, therefore, that during the period of monarchic Jerusalem, a building of some considerable pretensions stood on top of the scarp.” In the early 1980s, Hebrew University’s Yigael Shiloh uncovered the enormous “stepped-stone” support structure which now appears to be part of the same complex of buildings. And in the new excavation, Mazar has discovered a remarkable clay bulla, or signet impression, bearing the name of Yehuchal Ben Shelemiah, a noble of Judea from the time of King Zedekiah who is mentioned by name in Jeremiah 37:3–evidence suggesting that four centuries after David, the site was still an important seat of Judean royalty. This matches the biblical account according to which the palace was in more or less continuous use from its construction until the destruction of Judea by the Babylonians in 586 b.c.e.
So, is it David’s palace? It is extremely difficult to say with certainty; indeed, no plaque has been found that says on it, “David’s Palace”; nor is it likely that such definitive evidence will ever be found. And yet, the evidence seems to fit surprisingly well with the claim, and there are no finds that suggest the contrary, such as the idolatrous statuettes or ritual crematoria found in contemporary Phoenician settlements. The location, size, style, and dating are all right, and it appears in a part of the ancient world where such constructions were extremely rare and represented the greatest sort of public works. Could it be something else? Of course. Has a better explanation been offered to match the data–data which includes not only archaeological finds, but the text itself? No.
There will be no shortage of well-meaning skeptics, including serious archaeologists, who, having been trained in a scholarly world weary of exuberant romantics and religious enthusiasts prone to making sensational, irresponsible claims about having found Noah’s Ark, will be extremely reluctant to identify any new archaeological find with particulars found in the Bible. Others, driven by a concatenation of interests, ideologies, or political agendas, will seize on any shred of uncertainty in the building’s identification to distract attention from the momentousness of the find. Both groups will invoke professionalism and objectivity to pooh-pooh the proposition that this is David’s palace. They will raise the bar of what kind of proofs are required to say what it was to a standard that no archaeological find could ever meet. Or they will simply dismiss it all as wishful thinking in the service of religious or Zionist motives.
There are two good reasons not to be swayed by such claims. The first is that even if this is not in fact David’s palace, there is no doubt that we are still talking about an archaeological find of enormous moment. Whether it is a citadel, someone else’s palace, or a temple, it is the first-ever discovery of a major construction from the early Israelite period in Jerusalem to date. This alone is enough to overturn the hypothesis of Finkelstein and others that Jerusalem at the time of David was a “poor village” incapable of being the capital of an Israelite kingdom. No longer is it reasonable to claim, as did Tel Aviv University’s Zev Herzog writing in Ha’aretz in 1999, basing his claim entirely on the absence of just this kind of evidence, that “the great unified monarchy was an imaginary historiosophic creation, invented at the end of the Judean period, at the very earliest.” On the contrary: Now we have a major Israelite compound dating to the time of the unified monarchy, firmly establishing Jerusalem as a major city of its time.
For this reason, important voices in the archaeological world have already begun declaring the find to be of great importance, even as they reserve judgment as to its identification as David’s palace. “Due to all the possible historical implications, we need to look carefully at the pottery and to further excavate the area,” Seymour Gitin, the director of archaeology of the W.F. Albright Institute in Jerusalem, told the Jerusalem Post. Yet he adds, “this is an extremely impressive find, and the first of its kind which can be associated with the tenth century [b.c.e.].” The normally reticent Amihai Mazar of Hebrew University, one of the most esteemed scholars in the field of biblical archaeology and author of the standard textbook Archaeology of the Land of the Bible, 10,000–586 b.c.e., has described the discovery as “something of a miracle.”
Yet beyond this, there also are good reasons to identify this building, at least provisionally, as the very palace described in the book of Samuel. This is methodologically sound, so long as we are willing to admit that future evidence could emerge, or a better theory be proposed, that might prompt a different conclusion. Right now we have before us two things: We have a biblical text describing in detail the creation of a Phoenician-style palace by David high up on a particular mountain, around the end of the eleventh or the beginning of the tenth century b.c.e. And we have a grand structure of the Phoenician style dating from the same time, on the summit of that very mountain, located with assistance from the text and previous archaeological discoveries. This was not stumbled upon, moreover, but carefully hypothesized, and the current dig was proposed as the test. The likelihood of this happening by chance is extremely small.
Is this absolute proof? No. But it is enough to shift the burden of proof. “You can never be sure about this sort of thing,” Mazar says. “But it seems that the theory that suggests this to be the very palace described in the book of Samuel as having been built by David is thus far the best explanation for the data. Anyone who wants to say otherwise ought to come up with a better theory.” This is neither wishful thinking nor an imagined past, but good science.