Corinthian Leather: The Fourth Art West Adventure

Corinthian Leather

The Fourth Art West Adventure

Ben and Ann Witherington

PICKWICK Publications - Eugene, Oregon

CORINTHIAN LEATHER

The Fourth Art West Adventure

Copyright © 2011 Ben Witherington III and Ann Witherington. All rights reserved. Except for brief quotations in critical publications or reviews, no part of this book may be reproduced in any manner without prior written permission from the publisher. Write: Permissions, Wipf and Stock Publishers, 199 W. 8th Ave., Suite 3, Eugene, OR 97401.

Pickwick Publications

An Imprint of Wipf and Stock Publishers

199 W. 8th Ave., Suite 3

Eugene, OR 97401

www.wipfandstock.com

isbn 13: 978-1-61097-3366

Cataloging-in-Publication data:

Witherington, Ben, 1951–

Corinthian leather : the fourth Art West adventure / Ben Witherington III and Ann Witherington

p. ; 23 cm.

isbn 13: 978-1-61097-3366

1. Archaeology—Fiction. I. Witherington, Ann. II. Title.

PS3605 W55 2011

Manufactured in the U.S.A.

This book is dedicated to Professor Mark Fairchild

whose wonderful pictures grace various of these pages.

1

God Calling

On the surface, Philippa Philapousis looked like just another Greek grandmother. Walking with a slight stoop and always wearing black, she was indistinguishable from various other old women from her village of Nafplio (aka Nafplion), the ancient capital of Greece, located on the Argolic Gulf. But Philippa was far from ordinary, as she had been granted the gift of prophecy.

Born in the little Greek village of Kechries, once ancient Cenchreae, where Paul met Phoebe, Philippa grew up hearing tales of the Corinthian and Delphian oracles. This was only natural since Kechries had been and still was a little fishing village near Corinth’s port on the Saronic Gulf, less than five miles from the ancient city of Corinth. In such a place, prophecy was a part of the local lore and, indeed, of the religious heritage, including the Christian tradition.

The local Greek Orthodox priests in Nafplio did not really know what to make of Philippa. At times, when she spoke a prophecy and it either was true or eventually came true, they felt a bit threatened by her. She had a source of spiritual power that they could neither domesticate nor dismiss, even though she was a woman untrained in the Bible or in Greek Orthodox theology. And it was not as though they could forget about her either, for there she was, week after week, Sunday after Sunday, standing through the whole Orthodox service, saying her prayers like all the other parishioners. Furthermore, she regularly wore a large Greek Orthodox cross whenever she went out during the day. She could not be written off as a liar, lunatic, or heretic. Indeed, she served as a sort of spiritual counselor to more people in Nafplio, especially the women, than the priests had ever served.

When questioned about her gift by friends, neighbors, and the curious from town (an article had recently run in the local newspaper), Philippa simply deflected any praise from herself to God, and said she had been given this gift from Christ himself for his service. Sometimes people would ask her to prophesy on the spot, and she always responded by saying, The wind blows where and when it will. I can only prophesy when the Spirit prompts me. That is all. I cannot conjure it up, and if I did, it would not be from above. That usually put a damper on those hounding her for a late word from God.

But on this morning Philippa got up early and sensed something was coming. Her fingers began to tingle and the hair on the back of her neck rose. Whenever she spoke as an oracle several interesting things happened. She always stood very straight with her head uplifted towards the sky. Her eyes were always closed. She always held out her hands in a pleading gesture. She always spoke in a voice somewhat deeper than her natural voice. She always used modern Greek, unlike the ancient oracles at Delphi, who uttered cries and groans that were then interpreted by the prophets or priests of the temple. Finally, it was also Philippa’s regular practice to stand up in Nafplio’s plaka, the central square, and deliver her message only when a considerable audience of locals and tourists had gathered.

On this April day, the sun was shining and all seemed right with the world, but the prophecy Philippa had to unleash would quickly call that into question. Standing on a park bench to project her voice over the crowd, she warned:

DARK AND DANGEROUS

WONDEROUS AND WIDE,

THE EARTH WILL OPEN

WITH NOWHERE TO HIDE.

SHAKING YOUR PRESENT

REVEALING YOUR PAST,

THE LIGHTS WILL DIM

BUT THE SUN WILL LAST.

BEWARE ALL DOUBTERS

BEWARE INFIDELS,

THE CRACKS OF DOOM

THE DENIZENS OF HELL.

And as quickly as it began, the prophecy ended. Philippa stepped down from her bench and began to walk away. Bystanders were either puzzled or amused, thinking perhaps the old woman had imbibed too much ouzo, the ever-popular anise-flavored aperitif. But there was one local merchant, Aristotle, who had often heard Philippa’s prophecies and learned to write them down quickly. He leapt from his café table, walked briskly over to Philippa, and tugged on her sleeve.

When, Philippa, when? When will the great shaking come?

The old woman herself was shaking at this point, and seemed in a daze. Aristotle had learned to give her a moment to clear her mind, and then asked again quietly, When will the shaking come?

I do not know, but God always delivers his words in due season. You have been warned, Philippa reiterated, shaking her head from side to side.

Walking away, Aristotle muttered sadly to himself, This does not bode well for tourist season.

2

On A Hill Far Away

The late spring weather in southern Greece is delicious. The air is cool and crisp, dew sprinkles the fields, and life is quiet even at the tourist sites. With the wind at his back, Art West poured over a map of ancient Corinth, a city built below the narrow band of land that joins the northern mainland of Greece to the southern peninsula known as the Peloponnese. Ancient Corinth had two ports, one on either side of the Isthmus: Lechaion served the western Corinthian Gulf while Cenchreae (a.k.a. Kenchreai, Kechries) served the eastern Saronic Gulf. People and goods flooded into Corinth from both sides. But it wasn’t always so.

In 146 BC the Romans utterly destroyed Corinth. There are slim pickings for an archaeologist wishing to establish the presence of life in or around Corinth until 44 BC, when Julius Caesar (100–44 BC) rebuilt the city as his Colonia Laus Iulia Corinthiensis. The new city, built on a typical Roman grid pattern, flourished quickly and became a wealthy province and government seat. Acts 18:12–26 attests to its status throughout the time of the Caesars. The apostle Paul visited the city of Corinth around AD 51 when Gallio was the proconsul. According to Acts 18, he stayed approximately 18 months and became close friends with a married Roman couple, Aquila and Priscilla. Apparently, Paul returned to Corinth around AD 58 for a further three months (Acts 20:3; 2 Cor 1:15). At that time, he probably wrote the Epistle to the Romans.

Art West was also interested in the eastern port of Cenchreae, which in New Testament times had become a haven for Christians, including Phoebe, the first woman in church history to be called a deacon. So important was she to the fledgling church that Paul apparently entrusted her with his new Epistle to the Romans. In it he commends her in the most glowing terms, and insists that they assist her in whatever matter she may have need (Rom 16:1, 2). Obviously, Phoebe had been a hostess and patroness of Paul while fulfilling her diaconal role.

Cenchreae harbor

With his new, but still anonymous, funding, Art asked for a leave of absence from his professorial duties to spend the spring semester in Greece. Art had come alone to Corinth, but he had two old friends from school days, Doug and Barbara Zimmerman, who still worked at various sites in and around Corinth. In addition to her expertise in Greek tiles and icons, the effervescent Barb was well known for her watercolor renderings of southern Greece. Doug, in his spare time away from Greek manuscripts, entertained the locals by playing ragtime in many Greek bouzouki bars.

Art was also in touch with Nancy Bookides, whose work in Corinth was well known in archaeological circles. Corinth was one of those ancient sites where the American School of Archaeology could be justly proud of their fifty years of excavation. The results had been nothing short of spectacular, and now scholars and laypersons alike knew more about Corinth in the lifetime of Paul than about almost any other ancient city into which Christianity was introduced by the Pauline mission.

Standing in a field between two small Greek homes that overlooked the fenced area of the Ancient Corinth archaeological site, Art contemplated how he would approach this dig without repeatedly disturbing the neighbors. The goal was to finish unearthing a wealthy person’s villa, which overlooked the old city and stood in the shadow of the Acropolis called the Acrocorinth. A start had been made on this site, and a beautiful mosaic had been uncovered five years before, but the ever-present nemesis of lack of funding had prevented the excavators from doing more at this location. Art intended to remedy this problem, without further taxing the Greek government’s resources. The Ministry of Culture had been all too glad to give Art a permit to dig, knowing he would turn over any artifacts to Dr. Bookides. This was a reflection of the longstanding good relationship American archaeologists enjoyed with the Greek government when it came to this site so important to early Christian studies. Things were, on the whole, easier here than in Turkey, though there were numerous non-Christian detractors in Greece.

Art’s finally official fiancée, Marissa Okur, would be joining him soon. Her current project, cataloguing the dig at Hierapolis in Turkey, was keeping her very busy.¹ E-mails and cell phones made the separation bearable.

On this particular day, Art was enjoying a walking tour of the area he was going to excavate. He had just procured lodgings right next to the site in a small but neat white-washed Greek cottage with electric-blue shutters, rented to him by one Elena Demetrios, a formidable elderly Greek woman who had lived her whole life in this same spot. She lost her husband to cancer some twenty years ago, and her children were all grown up and leading their own lives in Athens and Thessaloniki.

Elena, like the archaeological ruins in ancient Corinth, was rooted to the ground and refused to move. She had her routines: going to the market, visiting shut-ins, and attending the famous St. Paul’s Greek Orthodox Church on the edge of the modern city of Corinth. Art had a feeling he would be getting to know Mrs. Demetrios quite well, as she was a big talker, and loved to hear about the progress of the archaeological work. Her spoken English was not very good, but she comprehended the language well enough that if Art spoke slowly she could make sense of it all.

Art’s own modern Greek was limited to some necessary words, but he could read the posted signs. The problem for him was pronunciation. Many, if not most, Greek words were pronounced very differently from how they would have been in New Testament times. He would never forget his surprise when he discovered, while eating at his favorite restaurant in Athens some years prior, that the word for thank you, from the verb eucharisteo, is in fact pronounced ef-feris-toe, as opposed to the ancient pronunciation, you-ka-ris-tee-o.

Having finished his walking survey, Art could tell he would need to hire a lot of diggers initially, as he wanted to do some test soundings all over the site, or use his new imaging equipment to narrow things down quickly to particular plots where he and Marissa would concentrate for the summer’s work. The mosaic floor piece that had already been uncovered suggested a large villa, probably with numerous out-buildings as well. From the Museum of Archaeology in Athens, Art had already rented the expensive sonar-like device that would indicate the location of large structures under the ground so he would not waste time digging in a dead zone that would reveal nothing but dirt.

Modern archaeology had gone high tech, which came with a high price tag. Thanks to his sizeable new trust fund, Art had not blinked when the Director of Archaeology at the Ministry of Culture told him it would be $5,000 to rent the equipment for a two-week span. He simply wrote the check, packed up the gear, and drove to Corinth. Someday he hoped to thank his anonymous donor in person.

Still standing on the hill, Art could hear the goats from a nearby farm making their presence known, the little bells around their necks ringing now and again as they moved to a new foraging spot. He also heard the sound of the children at the elementary school playground located down the street from where he stood. More distant was the sound of the traffic on the main north-south highway. Unlike many archaeological sites, this one was surrounded by civilization and the noises of day-to-day life, yet somehow this all made Art feel more at home with being here.

Will you stand here all day, or be digging? asked Mrs. Demetrios, who had walked up quietly behind Art and startled him out of his introspective mood.

No digging today, Mrs. Demetrios, just surveying using this amazing device that lets me see underground. Here, look through this view finder. Art brought the instrument over and lowered it down so the 5´ 2˝ Mrs. Demetrios could see through it.

Is amazing! Shapes from underground. That is probably wall there. She pointed to the center of the screen.

Art figured that it would be a good idea to keep a cordial ongoing dialogue with Mrs. Demetrios as she was his ticket to familiarity with the local community, and would serve as his eyes and ears while he was in Corinth. Plus, Art wanted to learn more about the day-to-day life of a devout Greek Orthodox Christian, and Mrs. Demetrios was more than ready to share. She needed someone to talk to.

When you finish looking through finder, she said, come down to house for some lunch—soup, tzatsiki, vegetables, maybe little lamb, maybe even baklava, fresh from baker. Her eyes twinkled.

With such a menu, laughed Art, I promise to be there very soon! Art had set up a deal to take one or two meals a day with Mrs. Demetrios. This had worked out so well in the four days he had been in Corinth that he had gotten an ear full on subjects ranging from local politics, to the state of the economy, to the problem with fishing in the Aegean these days, to the latest reports from the dig on the Acrocorinth, to what was in the vegetable market that morning, not to mention what was happening at church that evening. Art liked the family feeling that this dig site was giving him. It did not have to be all work, all the time. He could enjoy the culture and the people as well.

As she was walking away, Mrs. Demetrios’ parting shot was, And one more thing. Today, newspaper say earthquake coming according to Greek prophecy, so you best get to work soon.

What? exclaimed Art, Now I’ve got to schedule around an earthquake? Well, maybe it will help with moving this earth.

Is not laughing matter, since it came not from gossip columnist or weather man but from Philippa the prophetess, and she speaks truth.

Catching up to Mrs. Demetrios, Art asked, And who is this Philippa? She sounds like a woman I need to meet sometime.

She special woman who lives over in Nafplio and, yes, perhaps I can arrange meeting.

Thank you, said Art politely as Elena continued on back to her cottage. But what he was really thinking while further wandering about the site was whether or not the voice of living prophecy could still be stirring in this part of the world. He found it hard to concentrate on buried artifacts when a living prophetess could be in their midst.