The Highways of the King

The Highways of the King

By Timothy S. Wilkinson

www.timothywilkinson.net

Ancient Hebrew has two primary words for transportation routes: messilah, meaning “highway,” and derekh meaning “road.” From earliest times trade routes linked cities and kingdoms throughout the Middle East. The most important and well-traveled routes were the Via Maris (Way of the Sea) that followed the coast almost from Egypt all the way to Lebanon, and the King’s Road, running up central Palestine, paralleling the Jordan. Maintaining these roads was important for religious, as well as economic, reasons. Since all Israelites worshipped at a central location, travel was constant and required by the Torah. The maintenance of the roads to the Cities of Refuge was even more crucial.

It is very difficult to get a clear picture of where roads and highways were once located, but a great deal of effort has been put into doing so. The Bible provides us with very little information regarding either their locations or description, but does contain a few allusions to their construction and maintenance. Isaiah talks about hills being leveled; Josephus wrote of Solomon paving the roads to Jerusalem with black stone. Archival texts, itineraries and military annals collected from the Biblical period throughout the Middle and Near East allow us to make a reasonably accurate estimate of how far one could travel in a day: about 17 to 23 miles, whether by land or by sea.

                To the modern reader, references to “highways” conjures up a very different picture than the Iron Age reality. Late in the 13^th century B.C.E. (during the time of the Judges), an Egyptian official was sent on a trip through Palestine. Fortunately for us, he kept a detailed record of his journey—and he spared no details when describing the condition of the roads:

“…the sky is darkened by day [because the road] is overgrown with cypresses and oaks and cedars which reach the heavens. Lions are more numerous than leopards or bears [and it is] surrounded by Bedouin on [every] side of it…Behold, ambushers wait in a ravine 2000 cubits deep, filled with boulders and pebbles…the narrow valley is dangerous with Bedouin hidden under the bushes. Some of them are four or five cubits from their noses to the heel, and fierce of face. Their hearts are not mild, and they do not listen to wheedling. You are alone; there is no messenger with you, no army host behind you. You find no scout, that he might make you a way of crossing. You come to a decision to go forward, although you do not know the road. Shuddering seizes you, [the hair of] your head stands up, and your soul lies in your hand. Your path is filled with boulders and pebbles, without a toe hold for passing by, overgrown with reeds, thorns, brambles and ‘wolf’s-paws’. The ravine is on one side of you, and the mountain rises on the other. You go on jolting, with your chariot on its side, afraid to press your horse too hard.”

                When Pharoah Thutmosis III traveled the “highway” sometime between 1490 and 1436 B.C.E. (the time of the Israelite conquest of Canaan or shortly thereafter), he reported that parts of it were so narrow that his horses had to walk single file—a singularly dangerous formation for an army. The passage of three and a half centuries didn’t see much improvement: in around 1100 B.C.E. (about the time of the birth of David), Assyrian king Tiglath-pileser I wrote that he had to send engineers ahead of his army with copper pickaxes to make the road passable for his chariots. There were portions of the road that proved too rough—charioteers and cavalry were forced to dismount and pick their way through on foot.

                When we imagine the travels of people in the time of David, then, we should include in that mental picture a sense of just how difficult travel was. Wealthier people may have ridden on donkeys or used them to carry their burdens. Many sojourners likely took a siesta to avoid traveling in the oppressive heat of the Mediterranean day; night travel also served as an additional way to avoid detection by highwaymen. They crossed the miles on narrow, winding paths, choked with mud after winter rains, heavily rutted throughout the summer. They tried to avoid the deep canyons cut by rivers that raged during rainstorms, as well as the disease-infested swamps, barren deserts and broad badlands of sharp, hardened volcanic stone. Mountain roads took them up steep slops broken by twisting gorges; the ranges could be crossed only at well-traveled passes. They sought safety in numbers, traveling whenever possible in caravans.

                While writing The Eternal Throne Chronicles, one of the challenges is that I continually discover new details about the biblical world as the project continues. I gratefully incorporate them into future novels but—alas—there is nothing I can do about those already published. The state of roads in Israel is one of those details. I look forward, though, to traveling those roads with fresh eyes in the near future as I write the first chapters of Hero of Israel.

                For more information about life in Bible times, check out my novels Prophet of Israel and Judge of Israel, available from www.timothywilkinson.net.

Well, That's a Deep Subject. Let's Not Get Into It.

 by Timothy S. Wilkinson

www.timothywilkinson.net

               Today, if I want to relax for a bit, to learn what the people of my town are talking about, or perhaps run into some friends for a bit of conversation myself, I would probably go to a local coffee shop. Living as I do in Western Washington, these are found on nearly every street corner. They have become the social gathering place, much as taverns and pubs were throughout much of the 19th and early 20^th century. Those drinking establishments used to be called “watering holes,” and this was not only because they were a good place to slake one’s thirst. They followed in a tradition that went back to the very dawn of civilization. Since the first wells were dug in ancient Mesopotamia, they have served as a center for social gatherings, a resting place for weary travelers, and a site around which marching armies could camp.

                Wells in ancient Palestine were typically covered with a flat stone of some kind, often large enough that it took several men to move it. Most were surrounded by some sort of low stone wall to prevent sand, animals, and people from falling in.

                When the well was located in a city, the woman of the house, or her oldest daughters if she had them and they were of age, went to the well early in the morning and early in the evening each day. There she met up with other townsfolk for a few minutes of relaxation and a bit of gossip. Then she would laboriously fill and carry the water in large earthenware pitchers on her head, shoulder, or hip back home.

                Some wells were located just outside a city’s walls. In these cases, some method was used to protect the well during times of siege and to provide a safe means to access it. Jerusalem, Hazor, and Megiddo all had deep wells outside their walls, and tunnels that ran under the wall and joined up with the well shaft.

                If the well was along a road, though, or in the wilderness, it became a fiercely guarded tribal property. Water was so valuable during the dry season that any town square would host several “water merchants” selling potable water for a hefty profit. In parts of the Middle East to this day, drinking from another man’s well is considered an affront by the Bedouin people; for centuries, battles have been fought over the rights to particular wells. To stop up a well was an act of open hostility. (Some scholars believe this phrase refers primarily to wells that were actually shallow pits dug in dry riverbeds to collect the water that continued running beneath the surface; these could easily be “stopped up” by filling them with debris).

                Wealthy families could afford to have their own cistern. This was essentially a water storage tank, usually dug out of the earth and lined with clay. Others were carved from solid rock; still others were more like pools on the surface of large courtyards. The cistern allowed the wealthy to avoid having to draw water every day. By the time of King Solomon, huge cisterns near Bethlehem (they look like giant, multi-tiered swimming pools carved out of stone) were connected to Jerusalem by aqueducts. Others were within the walls—to this day, a huge cistern in Jerusalem provides much of the water for gardening.

                Subterranean cisterns were bottle-shaped, but typically large enough that a man could be dropped through the opening and be unable to make his way out unassisted—especially since the pits would grow slime on their wet walls.

                In 1956 archaeologists uncovered the Pool of Gibeon referred to in 2 Samuel chapter 2. I have attached a picture to show how large and impressive this well was. It is comprised of a circular pit about 37 feet across and 82 feet deep. Over 3000 tons of limestone had to be removed to form this well shaft. It must have been an exhausting task for the women of Gibeon to descend to the bottom carrying their jars, fill them, and then climb back up the 79 steep steps with five to ten gallons water sloshing around as they walked.

                Even more impressive is the fact that a number of the wells mentioned in the book of Genesis are still being used today. That means that it is possible to stand in the very footsteps of Abraham, Isaac, Jacob, and Lot and drink water from the same well as these ancient characters.

For more information about life in Bible times, check out my novels Prophet of Israel and Judge of Israel, available from www.timothywilkinson.net.

Agriculture in Ancient Israel

by Timothy S. Wilkinson

www.timothywilkinson.net

                Sizeable chapters and even entire books have been written on the subject of the agricultural practices of the Israelites in Bible times. This article just skims the surface, but I have tried to include details that I felt readers might find interesting or particularly informative.

                It is extremely difficult for modern people to comprehend what agriculture was to the ancients—it was, as the word itself suggests, a culture that influenced every aspect of their lives. Israelites felt a connection to the land that most of us will never experience. Common people came to be known as amha’arets, or “people of the land” because their identities were so inextricably tied up with the earth upon which they walked.

                They were, at least prior to the period of the monarchy, self-sufficient farmers; each family was an economically independent unit. That meant that when they sat down to a meal of mutton, they were eating an animal that their hands had slaughtered and dressed, but also one that they had watched be born (even helped to deliver), carried as a lamb, bandaged and shorn. During the winter, they had hand fed it food that they had grown, using tools they had made from trees, stones, and ore that came from the land that God had given them and that had been in their family for hundreds of generations—land that had never belonged to anyone else and, from their perspective, never would. The knife they used to slaughter, the staff they leaned upon and the clothes they wore were all made by their own hands from materials they had harvested.

                This little corner of the earth has always been remarkably productive. Somewhere between 1991 and 1786 B.C.E., an Egyptian scribe wrote the document now called “TheStory of Si-nuhe” that described Palestine this way: “It was a good land…Figs were in it, and grapes. It had more wine than water. Plentiful was its honey, abundant its olives. Every [kind of] fruit was on its trees. Barley was there, and emmer. There was no limit to any [kind of] cattle.”

                Unlike Egypt that depended on the flooding of the Nile, or Mesopotamia that depended on irrigation, the people of Israel lived and died by rainfall. Droughts were deadly serious events—lengthy ones completely destroyed the economy. They were also one of the primary bases for war. During times of drought, farmers who lived in the drier areas would retreat to parts of the country that received more rainfall or heavier dew, or was nearer to some more permanent water source. The land they left, barren as it was, was still better than the land inhabited by the desert nomads to the east. They quickly moved in to take advantage of it. When the rains finally came and the farmers wanted to return to their ancestral lands, they had to fight to get it back.

                Some of what we know about Israelite farming is based on a broken piece of pottery upon which is scratched a little poem—probably some sort of mnemonic writing exercise done by a child. It is called the Gezer Calendar, and it says:

The two months are olive harvest

The two months are planting grain

The two months are late planting

The month is hoeing up of flax,

The month is barley harvest,

The month is harvest and festivity

The two months are vine tending

The month is summer fruit

                Most of the land was hilly and rocky, and farmers were obliged to cut the hillsides into narrow terraces and to fell whatever trees had been spared from the blacksmith’s forge and the carpenter’s saw. Family farms were small because they required constant tending and because it was easier to supply water to a smaller area during the dry summer months. The early rain mentioned in the Calendar (October and November), softened the ground, which had become rock-hard during the summer, for plowing. Such plowing was frequently unpleasant work, since it was done during the cold torrential rain of late fall. The rain was so torrential, in fact, that there was constant danger of flash floods and serious erosion of the shallow soil in the hill country.

                By spring the “latter rain” came, concluding the rainy season and heralding the beginning of the harvest. The writer of the Gezer Calendar mentions harvest and festivity in one phrase because the two were one and the same. For a people whose survival depended on a successful harvest (and who had subsisted on stored food for many months), bringing in the crops was the most exciting time of the year.

                But some crops remained in the ground through the summer, and it was these that were most at risk from the changeable weather of the Levant. Summer brought hot winds (siroccos) from the desert, parching the land and carrying plagues of locusts. The wind might blow nonstop for up to seven days, raising the temperature to as much as 20 degrees above average. The only moisture the crops would get for several months was the water that prudent farmers had managed to store in underground cisterns, and the heavy dews created by cold air from Mount Hermon’s snowy cap meeting the warmer air from the eastern desert.

                As the grain crops (wheat and barley) were harvested with plowshares and sickles (iron ones, during the time of King David), they were carried to threshing floors, almost always located atop a high hill. There the poor whipped them with willow switches to separate the grain kernels from the stalks. In later times, oxen were allowed to tread over them; their sharp hooves did the work of the willow switches. Later still, the oxen would drag sledges behind them—an indication of the increasing volume of grain being harvested.

                Once the grains had been separated, the farmers stepped in with wood-tined pitchforks and began to toss the harvest into the air. The hot eastern wind blew over the hills and carried away the lightest parts—the chaff. The fruit fell back to the threshing floor where it could be collected and placed into storehouses.

                As touched on by the Gezer Calendar, the primary crops were grain, wine, and olive oil. Other standards included millet, peas, lentils, melons, cucumbers, beans, mallow, sorrel, artichokes, figs, pomegranates and dates. These latter three, along with wild honey, were the only sources of sugar. Flax was grown in the south to make into linen, and many Israelite mothers no doubt had a small herb garden somewhere near the family home.

                The thirteenth tribe, the tribe of Levi who served as the religious leaders of the people, had no farmland allocated to them (although they did gain land of their own as time progressed). They were supported by the tithe, by which every family donated one-tenth of its harvest to care for the needs of the Levites and their families. The Levites, in turn, donated one-tenth of this to the priestly families among them. Additionally, every time a family began to harvest a crop (whether wheat, grapes, or even the herbs in their little family garden), they were required by the Torah to donate the “firstfruits” of that harvest to Jehovah by offering it to the priests at the Temple. The amount was not specified; it seems that was determined by the giver’s appreciation and generosity.

                One final aspect bears mentioning: every seven years, the Torah ordered, they were not to plant any crops. Instead they were to rely on Jehovah to make their stored foodstuffs last until the year was over. In addition to being a powerful lesson in reliance on Jehovah for their sustenance, this practice also allowed the soil to recuperate, and similar practices are employed by many farmers today.

For more information about life in Bible times, check out my novels Prophet of Israel and Judge of Israel, available from www.timothywilkinson.net.

Of Hearth and Home: Common Houses in Ancient Israel

Of Hearth and Home:

Common Houses in Ancient Israel

By Timothy S. Wilkinson

www.timothywilkinson.net

                The design of houses in the Middle East has remained fairly uniform through the centuries, so that even today one can find families living in houses that are virtually identical (in architecture, at least) to the homes of three millennia ago.

                The Israelites started out living in tents, as did many of the peoples of the Levant—and even after they had built more substantial homes, it was not uncommon for families to live in tents during the summer harvest season. Cave homes were also relatively common, like the one Lot lived in (Genesis 19:30) or the more elaborate caves of the Edomites at Petra (Obadiah 3).

                The standard house within the borders of a town, though, was blockish in design, comprised of a single rectangular room for the very poor, or a larger square with an open courtyard in the center for the wealthier. The roof was flat and typically reached by means of an external staircase—either outside the home or within the courtyard.

                Inside was usually a single room, around 10 feet square. The thick brick walls had niches carved in them for storing food and utensils, and a single, narrow window to let in light and let out smoke; it might be covered with a wooden lattice (Proverbs 7:6) in summer and a skin or wool curtain in winter. The door was nothing more than a curtain in poorer homes; wealthier citizens could afford a wooden door with a bar.

                The floor was packed earth, often in two levels: a lower section into which one entered when coming through the door, and a raised portion at the back where the family slept and ate. Historians speculate that one of the reasons for this raised section was to keep livestock from walking on the sleeping family when the animals were brought inside at night during winter. In any case, to our modern noses the houses would have been redolent with the smell of animals and smoke.

                Furniture was a luxury. Common people had a straw mat for a bed, and their “table” was simply a rug laid on the floor during meal times. The wealthier had couches, divans, tables, and chairs—sometimes exquisitely carved.

                Homes were constructed of bricks of sun-dried mud or fired clay until the time of King David. Then, with the availability of iron tools, houses of cut stone became more common. Unless the home was of finished stone, it was sealed with mortar or whitewash, designed to protect it from the weather. The idea was only moderately successful—these homes required constant maintenance. The walls provided a warm, protected environment for vermin—no doubt the rustling of rodents, birds, and snakes were common noises in the Israelite home.

                Homes in Galilee were typically built using black basalt. Those constructed along the Mediterranean coast were made of yellow sandstone, and the rest of the country used white limestone.

                The roof of the Middle Eastern home served many purposes and was, in some ways, the most important area of the house. It was constructed by laying brushwood across sycamore (cedar or cypress for the wealthy) beams, then binding and covering it with layers of mud. These roofs were, as you can imagine, particularly susceptible to rain. A heavy roller was kept handy to pack the mud down again after precipitation had softened it.

                In spite of this precaution, roofs leaked. Since the mud that made them was full of seeds and roots, plants began to sprout after each rain; roofs must have turned green during the wet season.

                The roof provided a cool, quiet place for the family to gather, for women to do their work, and for crops to be dried for storage. The Torah required that family heads install a parapet around the roof—no doubt because so much time was spent atop it that falls could have been common.

For more information about life in Bible times, check out my novels Prophet of Israel and Judge of Israel, available from www.timothywilkinson.net.