bustling and well manicured, though the telephone boxes had no telephones. Across the street was a large institutional building that had been the British headquarters, then the Israeli headquarters, and was now the Palestinian headquarters. An enormous portrait of Yasser Arafat hung from the roof, giving the town the feel of a place poised between democracy and dictatorship.
After a few minutes we arrived at the site of ancient Shechem. Compared with other archaeological sites, this one was fairly run-down, with grass growing over untended mounds of dirt and a graveyard of old auto parts encroaching on the city wall. Excavations show that Shechem was a thriving community as early as the fifth millennium B.C.E. , but wasn’t fully developed until the nineteenth century B.C.E. , reaching prosperity a few hundred years later. The lack of significant remains from the time of Abraham has led some to speculate that Shechem might have been added by later editors of the Bible.
Either way, Shechem’s prominence for biblical writers is clear. After arriving in Canaan, Abraham passes through the land “as far as the site of Shechem,” which is located alongside the “terebinth of Moreh,” a term usually interpreted to mean “wise oak tree.” God once again appears to Abraham and renews his promise:“I will give this land to your offspring.” Abraham expresses his appreciation by building an altar on the site.
We walked around for a few minutes, and Avner pointed out the city gate and a number of storehouses, as well as a temple and altar from the early second millennium B.C.E. , the time of the patriarchs. The Canaanite altars were in town, he noted, while the mention of the oak in Genesis suggests Abraham camped outside the walls, a position consistentwith his status as a migrant. The existence of several altars inside the city walls suggests that seminomadic clans might have been welcome inside the city, the two communities—Canaanites and proto-Israelites—living side by side. For Suher, this was welcome news, archaeology that could be used to mend, not divide. But even she couldn’t avoid drawing political conclusions.
“We believe this is a very important place, a Canaanite place,” she said. “We believe that Canaanites, they are Arabs. That supports our rights on this land.”
“So you believe the Arabs were here before the Israelites,” I said.
“We believe that, very strongly.”
“How do you make the connection?”
“The Canaanites are Arabs, from Saudi Arabia, from Hejaz. I know that we, the Palestinians, are also from the Arabs.” Though historians don’t necessarily agree on this point—most say Canaanites were drawn from all over the Near East, not just Arabia—I asked her if this idea would have an impact on the future.
“I don’t know if we can make real peace,” she said. “I don’t know if we will ever settle who was here before the other. But we can live together. We are human. The land is for those who build it. For those who live on it. The Romans were here, but it’s not their land. They went back to their country. If we leave the land, we don’t deserve it.”
“In other words, the Israelites left, so it should be your land.”
“Yes. But the Jews are much more clever than we are. They believe in this land more than we do. I don’t know why. They, their children: they are very serious about this place.”
“So what’s your dream for Shechem?”
“I love this place,” she said. “I don’t know why. I would love to clean it, to bring more people here. To bring children here. It’s a feeling. Maybe because we are raised to love this place, to love our history. It’s a history of pain. This place has seen a lot of pain. I hope it will go away.”
We said good-bye at our car and turned south toward Bethel, the site of Abraham’s next layover. We were passing through one of the poorestpockets of the West Bank, a rocky, agricultural no-man’s-land. Small trucks
After a few minutes we arrived at the site of ancient Shechem. Compared with other archaeological sites, this one was fairly run-down, with grass growing over untended mounds of dirt and a graveyard of old auto parts encroaching on the city wall. Excavations show that Shechem was a thriving community as early as the fifth millennium B.C.E. , but wasn’t fully developed until the nineteenth century B.C.E. , reaching prosperity a few hundred years later. The lack of significant remains from the time of Abraham has led some to speculate that Shechem might have been added by later editors of the Bible.
Either way, Shechem’s prominence for biblical writers is clear. After arriving in Canaan, Abraham passes through the land “as far as the site of Shechem,” which is located alongside the “terebinth of Moreh,” a term usually interpreted to mean “wise oak tree.” God once again appears to Abraham and renews his promise:“I will give this land to your offspring.” Abraham expresses his appreciation by building an altar on the site.
We walked around for a few minutes, and Avner pointed out the city gate and a number of storehouses, as well as a temple and altar from the early second millennium B.C.E. , the time of the patriarchs. The Canaanite altars were in town, he noted, while the mention of the oak in Genesis suggests Abraham camped outside the walls, a position consistentwith his status as a migrant. The existence of several altars inside the city walls suggests that seminomadic clans might have been welcome inside the city, the two communities—Canaanites and proto-Israelites—living side by side. For Suher, this was welcome news, archaeology that could be used to mend, not divide. But even she couldn’t avoid drawing political conclusions.
“We believe this is a very important place, a Canaanite place,” she said. “We believe that Canaanites, they are Arabs. That supports our rights on this land.”
“So you believe the Arabs were here before the Israelites,” I said.
“We believe that, very strongly.”
“How do you make the connection?”
“The Canaanites are Arabs, from Saudi Arabia, from Hejaz. I know that we, the Palestinians, are also from the Arabs.” Though historians don’t necessarily agree on this point—most say Canaanites were drawn from all over the Near East, not just Arabia—I asked her if this idea would have an impact on the future.
“I don’t know if we can make real peace,” she said. “I don’t know if we will ever settle who was here before the other. But we can live together. We are human. The land is for those who build it. For those who live on it. The Romans were here, but it’s not their land. They went back to their country. If we leave the land, we don’t deserve it.”
“In other words, the Israelites left, so it should be your land.”
“Yes. But the Jews are much more clever than we are. They believe in this land more than we do. I don’t know why. They, their children: they are very serious about this place.”
“So what’s your dream for Shechem?”
“I love this place,” she said. “I don’t know why. I would love to clean it, to bring more people here. To bring children here. It’s a feeling. Maybe because we are raised to love this place, to love our history. It’s a history of pain. This place has seen a lot of pain. I hope it will go away.”
We said good-bye at our car and turned south toward Bethel, the site of Abraham’s next layover. We were passing through one of the poorestpockets of the West Bank, a rocky, agricultural no-man’s-land. Small trucks
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