What's New in Old News?
The official newsletter of the Peripatetic Historian. July 2023, Vol. 3, no. 2.
Welcome to the July issue of What’s New in Old News. This is an unsual installment for me: normally I write these missives at the end of each month, but the constraints of our summer travel schedule required me to start composing this screed right after publishing the June issue. As you read these words Mary and I are hiking north toward Santiago de Compostela along the Camino Portuguese (look for a full report in the August issue). Since I am not lugging my computer with me, I am writing this on an accelerated production schedule, which feels a bit odd.
In the July Issue:
Peripatetic Field Report: The Return of the Cat-sitter of Jerusalem
Comet Madness Update
Then and Now
Let’s get started…
Peripatetic Field Report: The Return of the Cat-sitter of Jerusalem
Once you’ve established a reputation as an international cat-sitter, the work never ends. And that, in a concise sentence, explains how I found myself back in Jerusalem in early-June, sharing two more days with Pippa and Tammy, my two favorite holy land felines.
Of course cat-sitting brings fringe benefits; in this case it was the opportunity to continue a leisurely exploration of Jerusalem, visiting new sites in a city that appears to possess an inexhaustible number of attractions. I have a list, and each day spent cat-sitting allows me to check another box.
For example:
The Garden Tomb
Where was Jesus crucified and buried after his death? Tradition has long maintained that he was executed on the spot now marked by the Church of the Holy Sepulchre. Identified and endorsed by the Roman Empress Helena in AD 326, centuries of Christians have made pilgrimages to this church, believing that this is the spot where Jesus died and rose from the dead.
That identification is problematic: as I have noted elsewhere (see the blog link below), the New Testament suggests that Jesus was crucified outside the city walls. As the Apostle John wrote: “Carrying his own cross, he went out to the place of the Skull (which in Aramaic is called ‘Golgotha’” (John 19:17).
The Church of the Holy Sepulchre stands within the city walls. Some scholars have attempted to reconcile this inconsistency by asserting that first century Jerusalem was smaller than the current city and the patch of land beneath the church lay outside the ancient walls. Perhaps—but that explanation doesn’t satisfy everyone.
The Protestant were in the vanguard of the dubious. In the nineteenth century, British Protestants suggested that the traditional view was misguided: Christ was not executed at the point commemorated by the Church of the Holy Sepulchre. In fact, they argued, Jesus was executed on a small hill that stands north of the Old City’s Damascus Gate.
Denominational rivalry ran hot in the nineteenth century, and it was unsurprising that the Protestants turned their backs on the Church of the Holy Sepulchres and searched for an alternative that wasn’t controlled by the Catholic and Orthodox wings of the Church. As the decades passed, they developed their own alternate contender until it reached its present eminence as one of the city’s religious tourist attractions.
The Garden Tomb stands across the street from the Nablus Road Bus Station, a short stroll north of the Old City’s Damascus Gate. Its geographic position immediately defangs the principal objection to the Church of the Holy Sepulchre: visitors must leave the Old City—going “out”—to visit the Garden Tomb.
With cat hair still clinging to my trousers, I reached the Garden Tomb as it was opening. I followed two tour groups through the entrance. High stone walls separate the grounds from the busy street; the dulcet tones of schoolchildren, shouting from the grounds of the school to the south, offered a counterpoint to the bird song filtering through the lush foliage.
Shady paths run beneath the trees, wooden signs direct visitors to the major attractions. At several strategic locations I encountered “edification areas”: rows of benches clearly set out for sermons or the long-winded discourses of tour guides.
The thick greenery makes it impossible to see Golgotha, the Hill of the Skull from the entrance. I followed a path through the foliage to the southeast corner of the garden where a sheer cliff rises above a bus station.
This, according to the site’s advocates, is the place where Christ was crucified. I am surprised that the managers of the site haven’t purchased the cliff and incorporated it into the garden, but the fences suggest that hasn’t happened.
After Christ died, the New Testament narrative continues, he was laid in a tomb in the garden. I followed the trail north, past an ancient wine press and a cistern. The path terminates before another cliff, into which is carved an ancient tomb.
Stepping inside I find the platform where the Lord was, hypothetically, laid to rest.
I am alone in the tomb. This would never happen at the Church of the Holy Sepulchre. Admission to the edicola—the stone structure that houses the remains of Christ’s hypothetical tomb—usually requires a patient wait in a long line. At the head of the queue a black-clad Orthodox priest regulates the visits; he admits two or three people, gives them thirty seconds to contemplate the ineffable, and then orders them to clear the tomb.
But I, the beneficiary of an early arrival, had several solitary minutes to examine the Garden Tomb. When the clamor of an approaching tour group pierced the peaceful woods, I retreated to an edification bench and pondered what I had seen.
This bucolic setting appears to accord with the New Testament narrative. “At the place where Jesus was crucified, there was a garden, and in the garden a new tomb, in which no one had ever been laid” (John 19:41).
There are, unfortunately, a couple of problems.
Archaeologists tell us that this tomb was probably cut into the stone 700 years before the birth of Christ. The tomb’s age clashes uncomfortably with John’s claim that Christ was laid to rest in a new tomb that had never been used. If we are going to discount the Church of the Holy Sepulchre’s claim based on the fact that it does not appear to be outside the city walls, the great antiquity of the cliff tomb also demands a question mark be attached to the Garden Tomb.
The second thing that bothered me was the site’s perfection. The grounds have been cultivated and curried, shaped to harmonize with the hints supplied in the biblical narrative. If you wanted to film a movie about Christ’s final hours, it would be difficult to top the Garden Tomb as a set. It feels like a Christian Disneyland, with all of the props in position and perfect.
The manufactured quality of this space becomes evident when we compare the present reality with photographs that are less than a century old:
The barren ground has bloomed like a rose in the desert; a garden that didn’t exist at the beginning of the twentieth century has been cultivated into existence. This doesn’t necessarily disqualify the Garden Tomb’s claim to be the real Golgotha, but I remain wary. The carefully staged set is designed to match our preconceived notion of what a garden looks like—it takes no great leap of imagination to see the final chapters in Christ’s life playing out here. But it is a manufactured illusion, a garden planted nearly 2,000 years later.
An Unscientific Postscript:
So where was Jesus executed and laid to rest? I have doubts about the two leading contenders. Why, after Pilate pronounced his sentence, would the Romans have led Jesus through the heart of the city? It would have made more sense, assuming his trial took place at the Antonia Fortress, to simply lead him out by the nearest gate and execute him on one of the hills overlooking the Kidron Valley.
Although I don’t have any evidence to support my claim, it seems, prima facie, as plausible as the Church of the Holy Sepulchre or the Garden Tomb.
That’s my theory and I’m sticking with it.
Comet Madness
Upcoming Events
June was the calm before the Comet Madness tour storm. I offered one Zoom lecture (thank you to the Denver Astronomical Society) and spoke with E.J. Iannelli of Spokane Public Radio about the book. Over the next four months, events will multiply, peaking in October. Here’s what’s happening next:
July 21, 2023, 7:00 p.m. Comet Madness: Richard J. Goodrich in Conversation with Kevin O’Connor. Auntie’s Bookstore, Spokane, WA.
July 29, 2023, 7:00 p.m. The Manzanita Writers' Series Presents: Richard J. Goodrich. The Hoffman Center for the Arts, Manzanita, OR.
August 17, 2023, 10:30 a.m. Fear and Loathing in the Heavens: How the 1910 Return of Halley’s Comet Terrified a Nation. The Benton County Historical Society, Corvallis, OR.
Additional events, as they arise, can always be found on my website’s Media Page.
Madness in Hi-Fi
Are you the sort of person who enjoys a good audiobook experience? We have you covered. The aural version of Comet Madness is now available through all the normal channels. Pick up a copy with this handy link:
From the Peripatetic Blog
Want to learn more about the Church of the Holy Sepulchre? Take a look at episode VII of the Peripatetic Blog:
Then and Now
The image of the Garden Tomb in 1934 gave me an idea for a fun little flashback section for the newsletter. Here’s the debut of Then and Now, a photographic comparison of our evolving human landscape.
This month I offer a shot of the Roman amphitheater in the center of Amman, Jordan. Constructed during the second century AD in honor of Emperor Antoninus Pius, this theater held 6,000 spectators.
The theater in 1898:
And today:
Obviously, there have been a few changes made…
If all goes well the August issue of What’s New in Old News will come to you from America, following a sensible, end-of-the-month production schedule.
Until then, be safe, be sensible,