certainly inhabited in the first century B.C. and the first century A.D. as well as earlier and later.” This over-the-top statement is of course erroneous, for it is still based on the same three later Roman shards.
The reader should keep in mind that two- and three-inch fragments of pottery vessels are a precarious basis indeed for fixing the type and date of an artefact. Bagatti’s resorting to such small fragments time and again is hardly salutary either for his method or for his conclusions. In the best of circumstances and with larger shards, the possibility for confusion is still significant, even by professionals.
If we honor Bagatti’s diagrams, then these shards are parts of Roman cooking pots (see above). Because there is a non-correspondence between the diagrams and the descriptions, however, we are in an impossible position. If one were to honor the descriptions alone, then I would suggest that the two St. Joseph fragments belong to the Iron Age. “Two rims were at first considered Hellenistic counterparts of the Iron II holemouth jar rim,” writes Paul Lapp. “… Actually, they are from craters and have Iron II parallels. Their ware is definitely Iron II and not Hellenistic…” [277] Such reevaluations to the Iron Age are not rare, and Bagatti already assigns no less than twenty-eight shards from the St. Joseph excavation to the earlier epoch. Four of those Iron Age fragments have “rims with ridges” [278] as, arguably, the brief description implies (“ col labro rientrante nell’interno ”).
Regardless of how we treat Bagatti’s contradictory presentation, the shards in question are probably Roman, possibly Iron, and certainly not Hellenistic.
A few more revealing observations can be made regarding this small excavation site. First of all, we wonder at the very existence of the shard-pile. Does it not betray a categorically unscientific attitude, even for 1892? After all, why were these pieces not placed carefully in a museum, or in some place for safekeeping? Why were they simply discarded to the side? It is as if the Franciscans, intent upon finding structural remains from Roman times, despoiled the remainder. This reminds one less of priests venerating a holy site as of Egyptian tomb robbers hunting for gold, smashing up masks and funerary objects and simply strewing them to the side.
Bagatti’s inconsistency is also noted. In 1970 he writes of a pile with no order, and a year later of an “inverse” order. Surely his first observation is correct, for the building of a rubbish heap (which is essentially what the shard-pile originally represented) is rarely done with care, and much mixing and scattering inevitably take place.
It can also be noted that in this excavation Bagatti had no way to know what came from where, nor even if the material in the shard-pile had been excavated at the site or had been brought in from somewhere else.
It is of course not possible to expect modern scientific methods from the earlier Franciscans, nor even from Bagatti. Today excavation is conducted with the stratigraphic position of everything (sometimes even pollen!) being carefully documented. Thus, it is possible to create a three-dimensional diagram showing the original positions of all material at a site. Though such scientific rigor was never expected of the Franciscans, we do have every right to ask why they did not use the proper care and correct methods available at their time. Sloppiness, too, can be useful, as when the desire exists that certain facts not see the light of day. In this case confusion and disorder are a tool. We have already noted (Chapter Two) a chronological confusion, a “cavalier” approach to dating, under which the tradition has labored in dealing with the archaeological evidence from Nazareth. With so much to hide—indeed, the entire eight hundred year hiatus—is it any surprise that the Franciscans have chosen not rigor, but laxity in their archaeological
The reader should keep in mind that two- and three-inch fragments of pottery vessels are a precarious basis indeed for fixing the type and date of an artefact. Bagatti’s resorting to such small fragments time and again is hardly salutary either for his method or for his conclusions. In the best of circumstances and with larger shards, the possibility for confusion is still significant, even by professionals.
If we honor Bagatti’s diagrams, then these shards are parts of Roman cooking pots (see above). Because there is a non-correspondence between the diagrams and the descriptions, however, we are in an impossible position. If one were to honor the descriptions alone, then I would suggest that the two St. Joseph fragments belong to the Iron Age. “Two rims were at first considered Hellenistic counterparts of the Iron II holemouth jar rim,” writes Paul Lapp. “… Actually, they are from craters and have Iron II parallels. Their ware is definitely Iron II and not Hellenistic…” [277] Such reevaluations to the Iron Age are not rare, and Bagatti already assigns no less than twenty-eight shards from the St. Joseph excavation to the earlier epoch. Four of those Iron Age fragments have “rims with ridges” [278] as, arguably, the brief description implies (“ col labro rientrante nell’interno ”).
Regardless of how we treat Bagatti’s contradictory presentation, the shards in question are probably Roman, possibly Iron, and certainly not Hellenistic.
A few more revealing observations can be made regarding this small excavation site. First of all, we wonder at the very existence of the shard-pile. Does it not betray a categorically unscientific attitude, even for 1892? After all, why were these pieces not placed carefully in a museum, or in some place for safekeeping? Why were they simply discarded to the side? It is as if the Franciscans, intent upon finding structural remains from Roman times, despoiled the remainder. This reminds one less of priests venerating a holy site as of Egyptian tomb robbers hunting for gold, smashing up masks and funerary objects and simply strewing them to the side.
Bagatti’s inconsistency is also noted. In 1970 he writes of a pile with no order, and a year later of an “inverse” order. Surely his first observation is correct, for the building of a rubbish heap (which is essentially what the shard-pile originally represented) is rarely done with care, and much mixing and scattering inevitably take place.
It can also be noted that in this excavation Bagatti had no way to know what came from where, nor even if the material in the shard-pile had been excavated at the site or had been brought in from somewhere else.
It is of course not possible to expect modern scientific methods from the earlier Franciscans, nor even from Bagatti. Today excavation is conducted with the stratigraphic position of everything (sometimes even pollen!) being carefully documented. Thus, it is possible to create a three-dimensional diagram showing the original positions of all material at a site. Though such scientific rigor was never expected of the Franciscans, we do have every right to ask why they did not use the proper care and correct methods available at their time. Sloppiness, too, can be useful, as when the desire exists that certain facts not see the light of day. In this case confusion and disorder are a tool. We have already noted (Chapter Two) a chronological confusion, a “cavalier” approach to dating, under which the tradition has labored in dealing with the archaeological evidence from Nazareth. With so much to hide—indeed, the entire eight hundred year hiatus—is it any surprise that the Franciscans have chosen not rigor, but laxity in their archaeological
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