![]() |
| Temple of Juno |
I spent most of my day with a pickaxe which means that now my hands are blistered. But it was a great day! Our team made two wonderful discoveries. The site is turning out to be rich with relics.
Early in the day I had a moment to walk to the Temple of Juno. (Again, since it's still being studied, I can't provide photos here - above is a photo of a temple dedicated to Juno in Sicily). Juno is the Goddess of Fertility: women might have visited the temple to leave a votive or say a prayer of thanks or make a special request, regarding fertility. The temple at our dig site stands atop a lovely hill overlooking a fertile valley below. I sometimes believe that these Godesses still might be listening: "Thanks, Juno!" I whispered as I studied the crumbling remains of her once busy temple, not letting myself get too close to the altar. I'm superstitious like that.
![]() |
| The Milk Grotto, Bethlehem |
When I was in Israel 11ish years ago, I visited the Milk Grotto, a holy place in Bethlehem. Women from all around the world, of many faiths, believe that saying a prayer at the altar here will result in a hoped for baby. I didn't know this when I walked in - I just saw a little passageway marked Milk Grotto with an arrow and followed it down into an underground cave, out of curiousity. I was completely weirded out first
by the hundreds of baby photos taped to the chalky white walls and then by an (inebriated) Franciscan priest who popped out of a doorway and asked me if I was looking to have a baby. (Mind you I was very young and backpacking around Israel without a care in the world - having a baby was the last thing on my mind). He then explained to me that this was where Mary breastfed Jesus. Some think that this cave may have been where Jesus was actually born. The walls, he explained, are coated with a magical milk-white powder that many women believe aids fertility. He pulled a little vial out of his pocket and offered it to me, "Save it - you might need it someday." Just sprinkle it into some tea and see what happens." Of course curious me, on the sherrut ride back to my hostel, decided to taste it. Was it flour? I wondered. I dabbed my finger in the tiny vial and tasted a bit of the powder. It tasted like classroom chalk. I put it back in my backpack and forgot about it.
And while I didn't fall magically pregnant, when I got back to my hostel, there was a handsome stranger in my hostel room, folding up my clothes as best he could because he we supposed to take my spot for the night and checkout time had long passed. I was on my way to another city. He asked me to go to the beach instead and well, as they always say, the rest is history. That stranger and I fell immediately in love (despite many odds that would ultimately be the end of our relationship) and eventually, that stranger became my son's father.
I still have that vial and let me tell you, I steer clear of it. Email me if you want to test it out!
Among the many discoveries that we dug up today was an infant burial, the baby likely stillborn or deceased just days after birth. The little one was buried in two pots, one placed above the other, and gently set on its side. I have to admit that at first I found it bizzarre that ancient Roman mothers and fathers would bury a dead child in their home, but today it made complete sense. I thought of the grieving parents, of how they must have so sadly yet lovingly placed their baby in that special place in their home, to keep him or her close to them. At a time when stillbirths and infant deaths were more common than we could ever imagine, this family wanted to hold their tiny baby near. I was sincerely touched. I understood.






































