Tourists by the thousands play archaeologist for a day in Israel
An American-born Israeli in his early 50s, Ian [Stern] operates Dig for a Day, probably the biggest archaeology outreach program in the world. Every year, Stern's dig here at Maresha is visited by 30,000 to 50,000 tourists—most of them American Jews. They do spadework for Stern's academic research, get a hands-on crash course in archaeology, and experience their own history by digging in the dirt.
The Bible and archaeology are almost comically obtrusive in Israel. It's a tiny, dense country that's been settled, conquered, and resettled for 5,000 years, leaving history everywhere. Ian makes this vividly clear during our 45-minute drive down from Jerusalem. He has me pull off the road beside an unpromising pile of stones, which turns out to be ancient building foundations. Ian strides into one foundation, grabs a brush, and starts sweeping the dirt floor, revealing an elegant, daisy-fresh mosaic, the floor of the Roman inn that stood here 1,800 years ago. It's like opening the door on a blind date and discovering it's Kate Beckinsale. In America, this would be in a museum. Here, it doesn't even rate a roof. Instead, Ian and I just sweep the dirt back to protect it from the elements. A few minutes later, as we're driving through a small valley, not more than a couple football fields wide, Ian says, "This is the valley of Elah, where David fought Goliath." He points out the western hill where the Philistine army and Goliath would have camped and the streambed where David would have collected five smooth stones for his slingshot—assuming, that is, that there ever was a David (probable), that he ever fought Goliath (possible, since Goliath's name was found on a nearby pottery shard), and that Goliath was a giant "six cubits and a span" tall (highly unlikely).
Read entire article at David Plotz at Slate
The Bible and archaeology are almost comically obtrusive in Israel. It's a tiny, dense country that's been settled, conquered, and resettled for 5,000 years, leaving history everywhere. Ian makes this vividly clear during our 45-minute drive down from Jerusalem. He has me pull off the road beside an unpromising pile of stones, which turns out to be ancient building foundations. Ian strides into one foundation, grabs a brush, and starts sweeping the dirt floor, revealing an elegant, daisy-fresh mosaic, the floor of the Roman inn that stood here 1,800 years ago. It's like opening the door on a blind date and discovering it's Kate Beckinsale. In America, this would be in a museum. Here, it doesn't even rate a roof. Instead, Ian and I just sweep the dirt back to protect it from the elements. A few minutes later, as we're driving through a small valley, not more than a couple football fields wide, Ian says, "This is the valley of Elah, where David fought Goliath." He points out the western hill where the Philistine army and Goliath would have camped and the streambed where David would have collected five smooth stones for his slingshot—assuming, that is, that there ever was a David (probable), that he ever fought Goliath (possible, since Goliath's name was found on a nearby pottery shard), and that Goliath was a giant "six cubits and a span" tall (highly unlikely).