Ancient Christian settlement unearthed in Jordan, illuminating Middle East's religious past
A team of archaeologists have unearthed what is believed to be the long-forgotten Byzantine settlement of Tharais, offering significant new insights into the history of Christianity in the Middle East.
The findings, led by Musallam R. Al-Rawahneh, an associate professor of archaeology at Mutah University in Jordan, were published in Gephyra, a journal dedicated to the ancient history and cultures of the Eastern Mediterranean, in May.
Rawahneh's discovery was guided by the Madaba Map, an ancient mosaic that has long intrigued historians. He pinpointed the site near the Jordanian village of El-Irāq, in an area known as Ain Al-Qala'a. Although the settlement had been lost to obscurity for centuries, the archaeologist noted its strategic location along ancient trade routes leading to the southeastern Dead Sea region.
During the excavation, Rawahneh and his team brought to light a variety of artefacts, such as pottery shards, stone tools, and glass remnants, along with fossils. The site also yielded substantial architectural remains, most notably those of a Byzantine church. Rawahneh highlighted the Christian church and an olive oil press as among the most compelling discoveries.
The church, described as 'basilica-style,' features fragments of mosaic floors characteristic of Byzantine Christian sites.
Rawahneh remarked that its design 'reflects Byzantine aesthetics, including a prominent entrance and possible remnants of decorative elements.' Parts of the main entrance frame and the front facade of the church were also uncovered.
Additionally, archaeologists found various inscriptions, which Rawahneh linked to ancient funerary practices. While these inscriptions require further analysis, the professor suggested they 'may include Christian imagery and references,' which he believed could shed more light on ancient religious customs.
Rawahneh attributes the abandonment of Tharais by the 7th century CE to a combination of factors, including shifts in trade routes, earthquakes, and environmental changes. The period also saw the transition of the region from Byzantine to Islamic control.
Future research plans include surveys of surrounding areas and more detailed analysis of the unearthed artifacts. Rawahneh expressed hope that these ongoing studies would 'enhance the understanding of Tharais and its significance within the broader context of Byzantine archaeology in Jordan.'
The Byzantine Empire, also known as the Eastern Roman Empire, flourished from 330 CE to the 15th century, beginning when Constantine the Great relocated the Roman capital to Byzantium, which he renamed Constantinople.
The era continues to yield fascinating archaeological discoveries across Asia Minor and the Middle East. For example, a 1,600-year-old Byzantine-era mosaic from a Christian monastery was recently put on public display in Israel, and a Byzantine tomb complex was discovered in Syria by a contractor clearing rubble.
Hashtags
Try Our AI Features
Explore what Daily8 AI can do for you:
Comments
No comments yet...
Related Articles
Yahoo
9 hours ago
- Yahoo
New vines bring hope to Israeli monastery scorched by wildfire
Swapping his monk's habit for overalls and a sun hat, Father Christian-Marie knelt alongside volunteers in the freshly dug earth, planting grape vines to replace those damaged by wildfires that swept through central Israel earlier this year. Wine production at Latrun monastery dates back 135 years, when the French monks first arrived. Cultivating fruit is central to both their spiritual practice and livelihood. The monks say the wildfires that broke out in late April damaged about five hectares (12 acres) of vineyard -- roughly a third of their crop. Undeterred, the monks called for help, drawing dozens of volunteers who busied themselves digging holes and planting stakes under the blazing sun. Father Christian-Marie, who has spent almost 28 years at the monastery, said planting fresh vines symbolised optimism for the future. "For me, it's quite important when I live here in this monastery to pray for peace," he told AFP. "To plant a vineyard is a sign of hope, because if we thought that tomorrow the land will be bombed and will not exist, we wouldn't do this work," he added. Working in a pensive hush, volunteers carried trays of sapling vines to be planted in long rows in a patch of the monastery's land untouched by the flames. Robed monks handed out stakes and delicately pressed the plants into the earth. "Planting is something exciting, you plant and it will grow. It will give fruit, and the fruit will give wine. And wine will make the heart of the human happy," said Noga Eshed, 74, a volunteer from Tel Aviv. For her, the exercise signified a reconnection with nature. "I see people touching the ground, the earth. And it's not very common. We are very disconnected these days," she added, trowel in hand. Eshed, who has volunteered at the monastery on previous occasions, said the brothers there were "good friends". Latrun's monks are Trappists, a Roman Catholic order centred on contemplation and simplicity. - 'In God's hands' - Fanned by high temperatures and strong winds, wildfires spread rapidly through wooded areas along the main Jerusalem–Tel Aviv highway on April 30. The flames travelled right up to the edge of Latrun monastery, prompting the evacuation of the 20 or so brothers who live there. "It was very hard because we are not used to getting out of our monastery and we have some very old brothers," Brother Athanase told AFP. The monks initially feared it had burned down, he added, but the monastery was spared although swathes of its agricultural land were destroyed. As well as vineyards, Latrun has around 5,000 olive trees, of which roughly 1,000 were entirely burnt down to the root in the blaze. Brother Athanase estimated that around 70 percent of the olive trees were in some way damaged and would take around four years to recover. Last year the monastery produced three tonnes of olive oil, but "there'll be no production this year", he said. "It's difficult for us because we are living off our production... but we are not afraid because life is always growing up," he added with a slight smile, surrounded by scorched earth. He was grateful for the assistance provided by the volunteers and said it was important "to know that people like monks in the Holy Land". Climate change is driving up temperatures, decreasing precipitation and increasing the frequency of extreme weather events in Israel. Standing in the newly planted vineyard, Father Alois said he hoped the monastery would not face a blaze as devastating in the future but that the monks were now better prepared after installing a new water system. Ultimately, he said, "we are in God's hands". acc/phz/dv
Chicago Tribune
a day ago
- Chicago Tribune
The history (and mystery) of ice cream sundaes, and 6 standout Chicago-area offerings
The origin story behind the ice cream sundae comes swirled with mystery, history, as well as chocolate and even a cherry on top. When Edward Berners died at 75 on July 1, 1939, the Chicago Daily Tribune published an obituary the next day headlined 'Man Who Made First Ice Cream Sundae Is Dead.' The paper wrote that Berners claimed he originated the sundae at his ice cream parlor in Two Rivers, Wisconsin, about 40 years before his death, when George Hallauer asked him to put chocolate soda flavoring directly on a dish of ice cream. But according to the Two Rivers and Wisconsin historical societies, Berners made that first chocolate sundae at Berner's Confectionery in 1881 — nearly 20 years earlier than his obituary estimated. A number of places claim to be the birthplace of the ice cream sundae, including Evanston (William Garwood at Garwood's drugstore in 1890) and Plainfield (Charles Sonntag at his pharmacy, circa 1893). Then there's Ithaca, New York, which says Chester Platt first served a 'Cherry Sunday' at his Platt & Colt's Pharmacy on April 3, 1892. That is, in fact, 11 years after Two Rivers' chocolate sundae. Ithacans, however, cite a paper trail as their evidence. If you were wondering, pharmacists, aka druggists, once made medicinal and recreational soda drinks, sometimes mixing flavorings and cocaine. Those soda fountains became family-friendly social hubs, eventually offering ice cream sodas, then soda-free ice cream sundaes, wherever it was invented. One detail shared across the origin stories is that the name sundae came from Sunday. But theories vary as to why, from respect for the Christian day of worship or due to a decidedly secular trademark attempt. Whatever the story, the ice cream sundae lives on, with old-fashioned chocolate and cherry, which you can find at Margie's Candies with lots of whipped cream, of course, to more modern creations made by top chefs around of summers past stand frozen in time at this Southwest Side ice cream window, where a vintage sign holds the sacred image of a banana split sundae and reads 'good ice cream for good people.' That's the heart of Betty's Ice Cream in Gage Park, where owners Juan and Beatriz Gonzalez for decades have served cold treats with warm smiles. As a first-time visitor, I wasn't sure which direction to take my sundae, but I did make sure to bring cash. Select chocolate, vanilla or strawberry ice cream for the base, and fudge, strawberry or pineapple sauce for the topping, plus adornments such as wafers and maraschino cherries. For me, a crispy waffle cup tied my fudge and peanut-covered scoop together — the perfect treat for an idyllic Chicago summer afternoon. The now-everywhere Dubai chocolate trend can be traced back to a pricey bar of chocolate made by United Arab Emirates-based chocolatier, Fix, which dreamed up a milk chocolate bar filled with shredded phyllo pastry known as kataifi and a pistachio cream filling. The actual name of the bar is 'Can't Get Knafeh of It,' referencing the traditional Palestinian-Jordanian dessert, knafeh, or kunafe, which is made by layering kaitefi with cheese, pistachios and a dousing of rose water syrup. Since it took off on social media, it's been reinvented into everything from pastries, cakes and doughnuts to lattes and cold coffee drinks. At Karak Café in Lisle, Dubai chocolate has become an ice cream sundae. The easily shareable dessert has two scoops of classic vanilla ice cream on a bed of chewy, chocolatey brownie pieces and melted milk chocolate gracing both the brownies and the ice cream. It's topped with a generous drizzle of green pistachio cream. Typically, it's served with a sugar cone on the side or a wafer stick. A solid sundae — indulgent, sweet, texturally pleasing and messier with each dig — but it would be even better with a sprinkle of chopped up pistachios. The unassuming Muslim-owned cafe also makes a halwa sundae, based on a Desi confection with a fudge-like texture. Award-winning pastry chef Dana Cree of Pretty Cool Ice Cream and then-executive chef Max Robbins at Longman & Eagle launched a charitable series that was a beacon in the dark of 2020. Sundae Mondays at L & E in Logan Square, featuring toppings from an extraordinary roster of chefs, restaurateurs and creators — benefiting a charity of their choice — still persists every summer. A recent sundae by chef Won Kim of Kimski offered subtly spicy gochujang caramel with aromatic rice vinegar macerated peaches, crushed Honey Butter Chips, Maldon sea salt and nutty sesame seeds over a soft scoop of vanilla ice cream. It benefited The Montessori School of Englewood (with 70 low-income children ages 3 to 5 years old, many who are unhoused and rely on the school for food, clothing, health care and more), which will have to shut down if it does not receive federal funding by December. Citrus and chocolate are a common Italian duo as well-suited as strawberry is to cream. Some experimental scoop shops blithely sprinkle orange peel or extract in chocolate, but it can feel hollow or overly clever. They might take notes from Monteverde's citrus dark chocolate sundae, which is plated alongside a whirlpool of marmellata, mandarin olive oil and toasted pistachios swirling in an umber cocoa sea. Citrus and chocolate both can dabble in varying intensities of sweet, sour, bitter and florality — here, the focus is textural congruity and balance, not tartness or sweetness. The citrus isn't infused into the ice cream, but that flavor still ripples through every bite, sans acidity, thanks to the shapely and precise pieces of fruit and peel. And the biggest achievement of all? It's actually a dark chocolate sorbet sundae, completely smooth, creamy and devoid of any crystalline ice. The dish is quietly, confidently vegan and gluten-free. The West Loop restaurant offers the dish year-round and has different iterations depending on the citrus season and availability. Some intriguing possibilities include Cara Cara oranges and kumquats. OK, yes, this might be a bit of an unconventional pick. But what makes a sundae a sundae? For the Tribune food team, we settled on there needing to be some sort of ice cream base and, of course, lots of toppings. And Filipino halo-halo is all about the toppings, which can range from sweet beans and fruit to bits of ube jam or even sprinkles of cereal for crunch. Sunda's take — which they do label as a sundae — features plenty of crunchy shaved ice topped with scoops of ube ice cream, chewy pandan coconut gels, red mung beans, lychee and flan. The mixture is well-balanced, served just cold enough so it doesn't all melt into an unsightly ice cream soup. It comes plated beautifully in a glass for the perfect photo opp, but the accompanying bowl allows you to mix everything together just right so you can build the ideal bite without getting too messy. Chefs Tyler Hudec and Dani Kaplan, along with co-owner and general manager Pat Ray, will always have a shot of house-made No-Lört waiting for you at their whimsical Italian American restaurant, but probably not the same dish of ice cream. The seasonal sundae at Void in Avondale changes constantly, utilizing creative techniques, but is always served in a silver coupe. One variation paired tangy-sweet blueberry sorbet with delicately salted vanilla gelato, topped with a crackling cornbread toffee and buttermilk caramel drizzled with the carefree abandon of summer. Here's the scoop: 25 Chicago spots for ice cream and cool sweet treats to beat the heat this summer
Yahoo
4 days ago
- Yahoo
A girl's death in Texas floods is her family's third loss this year. 3 mementos she left help her mom cope
The last time Lindsey McLeod McCrory saw her daughter Blakely alive, the young girl was heading to camp wearing a simple yet profound necklace – one that would later reconnect Blakely to her mother after she died. It was a green-and-white beaded Camp Mystic necklace – a tribute to the legendary Christian girls' camp in the foothills of Texas' Hill Country where Blakely was going. It's the same camp her mother and other women in the family had attended and forged lifelong memories. 'I gave this necklace to my daughter right before camp, and I advised her that if she didn't want to lose it – because she's 8 years old, and of course, they lose jewelry – I told her to wear it … during the whole time at camp,' McCrory told CNN on Friday. Blakely's new necklace served as a reminder of her mother's support at a time of immense loss. Blakely's father died from cancer in March. And just last month, she lost her uncle to illness. But Camp Mystic was a haven where Blakely's grief gave way to joy. 'She was so excited, and it came at such a good time since she lost her daddy,' McCrory said. 'It was a way for her to just heal with that sisterhood and her faith and just all of the fun activities.' Everything changed in the pre-dawn hours of July 4, when torrential rainfall and catastrophic flooding ripped through central Texas – claiming at least 135 lives, many near the Guadalupe River. At Camp Mystic, the cabins with the youngest campers were closest to the river. Blakely, along with 26 other Camp Mystic girls and counselors, perished in the deluge – forcing her family to endure yet another unfathomable tragedy. Despite the anguish, McCrory has found solace – thanks in part to letters that she received from Blakely after she died. Finding her tribe Even though Blakely was a new camper in a cabin full of strangers, she didn't seem nervous about going to camp. 'She loves the outdoors. She loves to fish, horseback ride,' her mother said. In a letter to her mother, Blakely said camp was 'amazing.' She was looking forward to playing tennis, going horseback riding and trying other sports, she wrote. The letter also said Blakely became a 'tonk' – something she had dreamed of. Every new girl at Camp Mystic draws a slip that tells them which 'tribe' they belong to – the Tonkawa or the Kiowa tribe. 'The tribe traditions, which have been handed down since Mystic's beginning' in 1926, 'help to emphasize team spirit, fun competition and good sportsmanship' during games, Camp Mystic's website says. 'After each game, the losing tribe commends the winning tribe who, in turn, compliments the losing tribe. Campers from opposite tribes pair up after each game and go up to Chapel Hill to pray.' Drawing a red slip meant the Tonkawa tribe. A blue slip signified the Kiowa tribe. Blakely 'wanted to be a Tonk really badly,' her mom said. 'Her two cousins are both Tonks. … So she wanted to be a Tonk so she could compete with her cousins' tribe.' The rituals instill 'sportsmanship and competition amongst the girls, which is so great for later on in life,' McCrory said. After Blakely drew a red slip, 'she was just ecstatic,' her mother said. In another letter, Blakely made an urgent request to her mother, who was getting ready to donate items because the family was preparing to move: 'PS. Please don't give my Barbie Dream house,' the 8-year-old scrawled on a colorful piece of paper. McCrory didn't receive those letters until after Blakely died. But the scribbled request forced a smile onto the grieving mother's face. 'It's just funny how a little girl's mind works. And that's why I laughed when I got the letter, because I could just hear her writing her thoughts down,' McCrory said. 'And it was just funny. … It was so Blakely.' 'I dropped the phone on the table, shaking' After sending Blakely off to camp, McCrory joined her sister and two nieces on a trip to Europe. It was the first such outing since the deaths of McCrory's husband, Blake, and her brother, Chanse McLeod – both within the last five months. When news trickled in overseas about some flooding at Camp Mystic, McCrory had no idea how bad it was. 'We were on a boat, and when we docked for lunch, we received some text messages' – including one reporting flooding at Camp Mystic. 'And so what popped in my mind – because we didn't have all of the full reports of the 30-foot surge – (was) that it was like the flood in 1987, when I was a camper.' Back then, 'you had to stay in your cabin for safety,' she said. 'They didn't want people walking in the mud and sliding around since there are so many hills. And they would bring food to us. And so that was what I first imagined it was.' McCrory then lost cell service and didn't receive a call from Camp Mystic. Eventually, she gained access to her voicemails and heard a horrid message: Blakely was missing. 'I just dropped the phone on the table, shaking,' she said. 'I was frozen when I heard that voicemail.' McCrory soon jumped on a plane back to Houston. At the same time, Blakely's half-brother and his mother scoured an evacuation center in Ingram, hoping to find Blakely. For two days, the family waited in anguish as crews trudged through thick mud and debris searching for victims and survivors. Then, on July 7, McCrory received the dreaded news: Blakely's body had been found. She was still wearing the Camp Mystic necklace her mom had given her – a piece of jewelry that helped identify her. Immense gratitude amid the grief For a widow who lost her husband, her only brother and her only daughter in just five months, McCrory is remarkably composed. She exudes an aura of calmness and even optimism. McCrory chalks it up to her faith, her family and her support network – all of which have ties to Camp Mystic. 'My faith is so strong. Actually, I was a camper at Camp Mystic, and I felt so close to my faith attending there as a camper,' she said. 'We had lovely devotionals on the waterfront where the Guadalupe River is, in the mornings, and then in the evenings, on Sundays, we went to Chapel Hill. And just the sisterhood, the faith – it just really brought me closer.' McCrory said she has learned how to cope after each tragedy and takes comfort in knowing her lost loved ones are together again. 'We lost my husband in March, and then my brother in June. So I think that prepared me for Blakely's loss,' she said. 'I'm coping very well. I have amazing love and support from people I know (and) from people I don't know. The mothers of the campers that were lost were on a group text, and were able to share stories and thoughts – and even funny moments.' As she prepared for Blakely's funeral Friday, McCrory wore the beaded necklace that she had given her daughter. 'My good friends from high school had it extended so that I could wear it, so I would have a touchstone close to my heart,' she said. She's also thankful for Blakely – and the fact that her final days were spent doing what she loved. 'She had the best time at camp. She went out on a happy note,' her mother said. And as the water started to rise, a counselor made a keen observation: 'Blakely was encouraging her cabinmates to not be afraid,' McCrory said. 'She was always a leader, encouraging others. So in my heart, I know it happened fast. And I'm just so grateful the life that she lived was so happy.'
