A Worthy Tribute
Near Eastern Archaeology in the Twentieth Century: Essays in Honor of Nelson Glueck, edited by James A. Sanders (Doubleday, 1970, 406 pp., $14.95), is reviewed by Edwin M. Yamauchi, associate professor of history, Miami University, Oxford, Ohio.
Nelson Glueck, who next to W. F. Albright must be ranked the greatest Palestinian archaeologist produced by America, died this past February at the age of seventy. After studies at the University of Cincinnati and Hebrew Union College, Glueck received his Ph.D. from Jena in Germany in 1926. He came under the influence of W. F. Albright at the American School of Oriental Research in Jerusalem in 1927–28, and served as director of that school in the thirties and forties. In 1947 he became the president of Hebrew Union College, the foremost rabbinical school for Reform Judaism.
Glueck’s greatest fame lies in his indefatigable activity in making arduous surveys in Transjordan between 1932 and 1947, and in the Negev of Israel between 1952 and 1964. His belief in the accuracy of Old Testament traditions led him to many discoveries, including evidence for copper mines in the Arabah Valley south of the Dead Sea and the site of ancient Ezion-Geber at Tell el-Kheleifeh on the Gulf of Elath—Solomon’s port. His advice was: “And above all, read the Bible, morning, noon and night, with a positive attitude, ready to accept its historical references in whatever context they occur as arising from fact, until or unless other factors suggest other procedures” (in The Biblical Archaeologist Reader, edited by D. N. Freedman and G. E. Wright, p. 2.)
The most important result of his exploration of the Negev was the discovery that it was only during the twenty-first to nineteenth centuries B.C. (Middle Bronze I), and not for a millennium before or after, that there were settlements with pottery in this area. This fits very well the period assigned on other grounds to the narratives of Abraham in the Negev.
The major result of his surveys in Transjordan was the discovery of a break in intensive sedentary occupation between c. 1900 and 1300 B.C. Since the biblical narrative implies the opposition of settled communities to the children of Israel as they traveled from the Arabah to Mount Nebo, most scholars. would date the Conquest of the Promised Land in the thirteenth century, when there were such communities in Edom, Moab, and Ammon.
Another of Glueck’s great achievements was the light his explorations shed on the activity of the Nabataean Arabs, who controlled the trade routes from their center at Petra west to Gaza and north to Damascus during the early Roman Empire.
It is no reflection on the magnitude of Glueck’s achievement that more recent discoveries have now called into question some of his earlier conclusions. His former assistant, Benno Rothenberg, questioned Glueck’s interpretation of holes in a building at Tell el-Kheleifeh as flue-holes in a smelter and suggested that they had resulted from the decay and/or burning of supporting timbers. Glueck accepted this correction.
Then in 1969 Rothenberg discovered, at the base of the so-called Solomon’s Pillars at Timna just north of Elath, an Egyptian temple complete with seal inscriptions from Seti I to Ramesses V. Rothenberg now suggests that it was these Egyptian kings of the fourteenth to twelfth centuries, rather than the Judean kings of the tenth to sixth centuries, who were responsible for the copper mines in the Arabah Valley. Albright has recently accepted this major reinterpretation.
Other discoveries in Transjordan, if they have not radically challenged Glueck’s general conclusions, have at least raised questions about the completeness of his proposed occupational gap there in the Middle and Late Bronze Ages. In 1955 a bulldozer accidentally uncovered a Middle and Late Bronze Age temple under a runway at the Amman airport! Middle and Late Bronze materials have now been discovered at other parts of Amman and from tombs at Mt. Nebo, Naur, and Madaba.
Most serious of all is the charge by H. J. Franken and W. J. A. Power that Glueck published only those potsherds that were familiar to him. Another charge is that Glueck labored under the assumption that Transjordanian pottery was similar to that of Cisjordan (the area west of the Jordan River). However, this assumption was difficult to avoid because of the lag of excavations in Transjordan. Only with the recent excavations of Franken at Deir Alla and of Siegfried Horn at Heshbon have we begun to realize how different the pottery of Transjordan could be.
These criticisms should not be thought to diminish the greatness of Glueck’s work; they only point up the very tentative nature of archaeology. It lies in the nature of the discipline that almost all conclusions are subject to later revisions.
The essays in the volume under review pay tribute to the many accomplishments and interests of Nelson Glueck. After a prefatory article by Fritz Bamberger, which points out that Glueck managed to combine a dedication to archaeological objectivity with a profound respect for the religious truths of the Old Testament, there are four sections of some twenty articles and a concluding bibliography of Glueck’s writings compiled by Mrs. Eleanor K. Vogel. Some forty-five photographs, additional line drawings, plans, and maps greatly enhance the value of the volume.
I. INTRODUCTION. G. Ernest Wright narrates the fascinating history of American involvement in Near Eastern archaeology, beginning with the researches of Edward Robinson, who first identified many of the biblical sites in the nineteenth century, and concluding with current work. Also reviewed are the pivotal roles of W. F. Albright and of Glueck, who is described as “the first and only American Jew” to have involved himself in Palestinian archaeology before about 1965.
John A. Wilson relates the monumental achievements of James Henry Breasted, the greatest of American Egyptologists—a man so in love with his work that he spent his honeymoon copying inscriptions in Egypt! Wilson also describes the important work of the Oriental Institute of the University of Chicago, which was funded by John D. Rockefeller, Jr. W. F. Albright whites of “The Phenomenon of Israeli Archaeology” since the independence of Israel in 1948.
R. de Vaux argues that archaeology cannot “prove” the Bible, for the truth of the Bible is of a religious order. He makes two important points: (1) the fragmentary nature of the archaeological evidence means that arguments from silence cannot be sufficient in themselves “to cast doubt on the affirmations of the written witnesses”; (2) much of the evidence is ambiguous and can be interpreted in more than one way.
II. THE BRONZE AGE. The remaining articles in the book are technical and will be of more interest to the advanced student than to the general reader. For example, Ruth Amiran discusses the finds from Arad and the evidence they offer for the transformation of villages to walled cities in the early third millennium B.C.
Paul W. Lapp, arguing in part from the evidence of the spectacular cemetery of Bab edh-Dhra on the Lishan of the Dead Sea, makes some far-reaching proposals. He suggests that newcomers during the Early Bronze Age came to Palestine from Anatolia, and that at the end of that age others with roots in Central Asia north of the Caucasus came to Palestine. William G. Dever discusses the same Middle Bronze I period, but in disagreement with Lapp identifies the newcomers of this period as Amorites from Syria.
Abraham Malamat points out the evidence for contacts between Mari on the middle Euphrates and Laish (Dan) and Hazor in northern Palestine in the early second millennium B.C. Such ventures to the west from Mesopotamia may illustrate the background of the invasion of the eastern kings narrated in Genesis 14.
Marvin H. Pope traces the history of the saltier or chest bands in the form of an X through four millennia. They evolved from a harness for weapons to adornments of Atargatis—a goddess of war and love—and later became features of military dress.
III. THE IRON AGE. From a comparison of materials found at Carthage, Yigael Yadin concludes that the pagan temple he found at Hazor was dedicated to the Canaanite-Phoenician moon cult of Baal Hamman and Tanit.
Kathleen M. Kenyon summarizes the results of her 1961–67 excavations for Old Testament Jerusalem. Among her great discoveries were a “Jebusite” wall of the city captured by David, and cave shrines dedicated to heathen deities from about 700 B.C.
Yohanan Aharoni suggests that Jael, who slew the Canaanite general Sisera, may have inspired the enigmatic Shamgar Ben-Anath to smite the Philistine mercenaries of Egypt at Beth-Shan in the days before the Israelite struggle with the Philistines.
A few years ago Yigael Yadin examined the stables at Megiddo and concluded that they were not Solomon’s but Ahab’s stables. James B. Pritchard now goes so far as to doubt that these structures are stables at all.
Joseph Naveh describes the evolution of Phoenician, Hebrew, and Aramaic scripts, and N. Avigad comments on some Ammonite and Moabite seals from Transjordan.
IV. THE PERSONAL PERIOD AND BEYOND. Frank Moore Cross, Jr., retranslates some interesting graffiti found in a cave five miles east of Lachish, first published by Joseph Naveh in 1963. Cross suggests they were inscribed by a fugitive fleeing from the destruction of Jerusalem by the Babylonians in 587 B.C.
George M. A. Hanfmann and Jane C. Waldbaum summarize the excavations at Sardis, the capital of ancient Lydia in western Turkey. The finds include evidence for the gold treasures of Croesus, and a gigantic Jewish synagogue built in the second century A.D.—the largest of antiquity.
R. D. Barnett adds to the Nabataean examples collected by Glueck a figure of a young man or deity bordered by dolphins found in the treasure of the Oxus River, east of the Caspian Sea.
Jacob Neusner points out the “anti-archaeological bias” of traditional Talmudic studies. As a first step in remedying this neglect of non-literary materials, he cites some evidence from the Aramaic and Mandaic magic bowls of the sixth century A.D. found at Nippur.
Finally, Peter J. Parr provides a preliminary report of his excavations at Petra (1958–64), the capital of the Nabataeans.
All in all, this collection of essays is a fitting tribute to a great man, whose untiring labors in the company of Bedouin in the deserts and whose enthusiasm for the Bible have immeasurably advanced the cause of biblical archaeology.
Of Romance, Fantasy, And Religion
Romantic Religion: A Study of Barfield, Lewis, Williams, and Tolkien, by R. J. Reilly (University of Georgia, 1971, 249 pp., $9), and Shadows of Heaven: Religion and Fantasy in the Writing of C. S. Lewis, Charles Williams, and J. R. R. Tolkien (United Church, 1971, 186 pp., $6.95), are reviewed by Nancy J. Young, religious education teacher, Rockingham County, Virginia.
The religious person is usually considered dutiful and ritualistic whereas the romantic is carefree and imaginative. Professor Reilly’s title suggests a fusion of romanticism and religion, a fusion he finds evident in four modern writers. He shows that these men are not merely Romantics who go to church on Sundays; their very religion is romantic and their romanticism is religious. They are concerned with the romantic experience because it brings them closer to God.
Reilly begins with a study of Owen Barfield, who is the least read and most complex of the four but whose philosophy is basic to the work of the other three. Barfield is a philologist and through the study of language has come to conclusions that are in sharp contrast to the post-Darwinian theory of evolution. He says that through the human imagination God is progressively creating the world; the world “out there” can be known only through imagination. Through the senses man perceives, but his mind organizes and names the experiences. Thus it is naïve to think that phenomena are fixed and independent of our minds. Primitive man did not think or see as modern man does. He was un-selfconscious, but through the centuries we find the cosmic intelligence (God) incarnating itself. The Incarnation of the Word is the meaning of history. Religion (Christianity) is really romanticism come of age. In each of the other three writers Reilly points out the influence of Barfield’s view.
Lewis in his early years saw religion and romanticism as opposites. The grim formality of the church was a stark contrast to a certain longing, stabbing desire that he felt in some aesthetic experiences—the reading of Norse myths, the sight of the distant hills, the touch of autumn. For years he pursued this desire in philosophies far from Christianity. One day he was reading George MacDonald’s Phantastes and for the first time experienced the romanticism of Christianity. At that moment, Lewis claims, his imagination was baptized. When he was finally converted he found the joy he sought in God. Since then, in all his writings, the romanticism of Christianity comes through. All Lewis’s readers know the shocking, imaginative way in which he brings us the good news of the Gospel.
The chapter on Williams is an excellent introduction to his work. Williams describes the fall of man as a loss of vision. Since the fall, man has seen evil as good and good as evil. To restore the true vision some men resort to asceticism. Williams, however, chose the “Affirmative Way.” The world is basically good and is to be used in a redemptive way. The characters in Williams’s novels learn to know and love God through romantic love. Though romantic love does not automatically redeem a man, if approached rightly, it can lead to God.
Tolkien’s romantic religion, though not obvious, is perhaps the easiest to comprehend. Man is made in the image of God; he is a sub-creator. When he writes fantasies he is creating secondary worlds. The happy ending, basic to the good story, is really an echo of the Christian story of the Incarnation and Resurrection, which took place in our world (although the end of Tolkien’s Lord of the Rings does not fit the traditional “happily ever after” pattern). The romantic experience occurs in the thrill felt when the fairy story takes a “turn” for the better. The experience is, in quality, identical to Christian joy.
Except where he compares writers, Reilly is not critical and not greatly concerned with the style and literary merit of the writings. His purpose is to help us understand the romanticism of these men and to show how it is inseparable from their Christianity. Perhaps the title could read “Romantic Christianity.” Reilly is most helpful in his explanation of romantic philosophy, but will also help Lewis lovers return to his works with greater insight.
In Shadows of Heaven, Urang examines the theology and literary style of the Christian fantasies of Lewis, Williams, and Tolkien. He faults Lewis and Williams for didacticism and for allegorizing (a term he appears to misunderstand), but feels that Tolkien’s symbolism in Lord of the Rings is more consistent and allows for broader interpretation. At times Urang’s criticism seems valid; where the average reader senses a weakness in Lewis and Williams, Urang offers an explanation for it. But after all most good literature contains weak passages. Urang’s rigorously censorious remarks are hardly justified by a few admittedly weak passages.
Urang’s substantive criticism of the three writers is that they fail to come to terms with modern culture. (The authors and their admirers would probably take this as a compliment.) They satirize it and expose its faults, but instead of leading to a new way they advocate a return to pastoral or medieval culture.
Has Christian fantasy then any merit? Perhaps it will wake us from dullness and enable us to see our world and our religion with new wonder. It can help us reevaluate our way of life. Urang’s views may not be appreciated, but he can help those who read Lewis, Williams, and Tolkien to do so with greater discernment.
Religion In The Soviet Union
Aspects of Religion in the Soviet Union 1917–1967, edited by Richard H. Marshall, Jr. (Chicago, 1971, 489 pp., $19.75), is reviewed by David E. Kucharsky, managing editor, CHRISTIANITY TODAY.
The most neglected social issue in the world today is suppression of the religious liberties of those who live in Communist lands. More than a billion people lack the most basic of human freedoms, to be able to live according to their conscience. Inasmuch as the academic community has shared the indifference, this collection of essays by scholars conversant with the state of religion in the Soviet Union is to be greatly welcomed. The authors present carefully researched studies on contrasting ways in which Soviet leaders have sought to put down religion, how the various religious groups (such as Mennonites, Armenians, Muslims, Jews, and Catholics) have reacted, and how individual religious sentiment continues to surface despite the strictures, even in government-controlled art and literature.
But the work is not as distinctive for its accumulation of data as for intelligent analysis. Perhaps the most profound conclusions are those of Bohdan R. Bociurkiw of Carleton University. He notes that somewhere along the line Soviet leaders realized they were laboring under an illusion to think that religion was merely an illusion! The search for a new tack in recent years has resulted in ambivalence—times of increased persecution alternating with periods of openness toward religious communities in the West. To the extent that the state succeeded in eroding religious belief, it also helped to bring about a secularization that is resulting in something of a paradox. “This secularization,” says Bociurkiw, “undermines the commitment to ideology in general and creates a growing number of citizens indifferent to or tolerant of religion.”
The book is a festschrift for Paul B. Anderson, who was associated for many years with Nicholas Berdyaev and who has devoted his life to discreet efforts in behalf of Russian Orthodoxy.
A major disappointment of the volume is a failure to recognize the special religious character of Ukraine. There are probably more churches, more churchgoers, and more active Christians (both Protestant and Orthodox) in Ukraine than in any of the other Soviet republics. But the closest the reader comes to learning this is a sentence saying that in 1961 the majority of all active churches and monasteries were located in Ukraine (which has had only 20 per cent of the total Soviet population). Ukraine figures prominently, however, in a recent competent study for which Anderson wrote the foreword: Icon and Swastika: The Russian Orthodox Church Under Nazi and Soviet Control, by Harvey Fireside (Harvard, 1971, 242 pp., $8). For another related book, see the following review.
The Russian Orthodox Church Underground 1917–1970, by William C. Fletcher (Oxford, 1971, 336 pp., $9), is reviewed by Paul D. Steeves, Ph.D. candidate in Russian history, University of Kansas, Lawrence.
William C. Fletcher is one of the leading students of religion in the Soviet Union. With this volume he breaks new ground in the academic investigation of Christian faith under Communism. The book is the first scholarly study of Russian Orthodoxy under the Communists that does not focus on the Patriarchal Church but rather investigates those believers who were, and are, vehemently dissatisfied with the conduct of that church toward the state.
By gathering information from a wide range of sources and analyzing an extremely great variety of data, Fletcher confirms the existence of a phenomenon about which considerable doubt has been expressed: underground Christianity in the Soviet Union. In the West, one hears two conflicting opinions on this matter. The official line of the Soviet government, followed by the Patriarchate of the Russian Orthodox Church and the World Council of Churches, is that there is freedom of religion in the U. S. S. R., and thus there is no need for a religious underground. On the other hand there are those who speak of a huge underground church in the Soviet Union made necessary by the regime’s aggressive policy of the destruction of religion; in this church, say these observers, is found the only pure Christian faith in that country. Since the second picture has usually been drawn by émigrés, or based on obviously biased sources, scholars have treated it with suspicion. Fletcher shows that not all the suspicion has been warranted, but that the truth lies between the two extremes.
There are, he says, considerable numbers of underground religious movements in the Soviet Union whose existence can be documented with data collected by the Academy of Sciences of the U. S. S. R., by articles in the Russian state and church press, and by information available from the movements themselves. While it is clear that these movements range over a vast geographical spread, their numerical strength cannot as yet be precisely determined. Fletcher concludes, however, that they “appear to embrace only the most miniscule of fractional percentages of the population”—a “scattered few adherents here and there throughout the Soviet Union.”
“The Russian Orthodox Church Underground,” as used in this work, is a generic term, designating in general those Orthodox clergy and laymen who reject the authority of the Moscow Patriarchate; it does not refer to a single organization or to an underground church as such.
Fletcher shows that much of the religious activity that goes on in the Soviet Union is technically illegal, for a variety of reasons. In some cities and towns, Orthodox believers have refused to worship in the legally registered churches, considering them compromised by association with the atheistic state, and have begun worshiping clandestinely in private homes or out in the countryside. In many more places, the local churches have been closed by the authorities; this forces the believers, if they are at all to satisfy their religious needs, to do so illegally. In yet other places churches have been ordered closed but continue functioning, nevertheless. These, says Fletcher, “are by far the most widespread phenomenon of present underground Orthodox life.”
Physical persecution, particularly imprisonment, has not been absent from the experience of believers since the Bolshevik revolution, but it has considerably diminished in frequency since Stalin’s death. It is the psychological threat of prosecution for illegal activities, in which almost every believer at some time indulges, that is now the essence of the religious persecution being suffered in the Soviet Union.
This work provides an easily read survey of the twists and turns of Communist anti-religious policy since the 1917 Revolution and the response of Christians to it. Fletcher’s lucidly told story contains a considerable amount of excitement, suspense, and tragedy as he shows how the government now launches a frontal assault on the churches, now sheathes its sword, and at yet another time subtly pressures Christians to forsake their faith.
The study is short on discussion of the theological and ideological motivations of those Christians who have decided to sever relations with the Patriarchate and thus undertake a clandestine religious life. And its scope is intentionally limited to those within the Orthodox tradition. We can but hope for an equally scholarly and illuminating study of the experiences of evangelicals who have faced the same circumstances as their Orthodox compatriots.
