(In 1985 I was able to spend 6 weeks participating in an archaeological dig at Tel Dan in Israel. I wrote this article which was published in Latter-Day Digest, June 1994, vol.3 no.6.)
As the Digest is no longer in print, I thought I would like to share what I wrote here on the blog.
The dreaded knock sounds on my door. "Boker tov is Hebrew for good morning, but what it really means is "time to get up" At 4:30 a.m., it seems my eyes have been closed for only a few minutes. Could it be that time already?
I sit up immediately. Any lingering will result in oversleeping. I dress quickly. Today is my sixth day at Tel Dan, Israel, where at age forty-one, I am finally fulfilling my dream of participating in an archaeological dig. It is part of my master's program in religion.
After the quick first breakfast, the fouty of us sleepily take our seats on the bus that drives us to the site of the dig. Tel Dan is one of the most beautiful places in northern Israel. I love the majestic trees that are everywhere on the site. I get off the bus and trudge up the hill to my area. The early morning sun begins to rise. It filters through the leaves and casts magical golden shadows on the winding dirt pathways. The moist morning air is filled with expectation. What will we discover today?
I arrive at my site-Area K-a series of archaeological squares that have been opened up near an ancient mud-brick gate dating back to the time of the biblical partiarch Abraham (2000 B.C.). I work with a group of six others. We use pickaxes to break up the hard ground, and as we shovel the dirt into buckets, we search for remnants of pottery and other artifacts.
We work until 9:00 A.M., and then head for a second breakfast. It's almost always the same: a hard-boiled egg, tomatoes and cucumbers, bread and peanut butter. It feels good to eat and rest.
Back to work. Now the sun is blazing down on our square. We've torn down part of an ancient wall and loaded a wheelbarrow with the heavy rocks-a task I would never have believed myself capable of, and yet I somehow push myself beyond the limits of my strength. What an exhilarating feeling!
Today is a good digging day. Our group finds a Hellenistic fish plate from the second-century B.C/, a three legged pot from the Israelite period(700 b.c.) and the head of a fertility goddess. Archaeology is like a treasure hunt. I never know what the next turn of my trowel will uncover.
A fruit break revives me until lunch time. Lunch consists of something like pizza. It leaves a heavy feeling in my stomach. I refill my thermos at the ice-cold stream that runs through the center of Dan. It feels so good to splash my sweat-streaked face before I head back for two more hours of backbreaking labor.
At 3:00 p.m. we clean up the site. I carry two heavy buckets filled with broken pottery back to the lunch site, where we spend an hour washing and preparing the shards for the expert who will piece them together.
By this time, the bus is waiting for us at the bottom of the hill. It's a welcome sight.
Arriving back at the Kibbutz, we drag off the bus. I'm filthy, but too exhausted to take a shower, so I take a nap first. The rest of the afternoon is spent washing my dusty clothes in cold water and hanging them out to dry. Then my five roommates and I discuss which of the five usual entrees we might be served this evening. We all hate "mystery meat". Only the schnitzel is appetizing . We take turns fantasizing about what we would most like to eat. I am craving Kentucky Fried Chicken.
At dinnertime, one of the students brings up the fact that I am Mormon, and asks me what feels like a loaded question. In the process of answering him,, I get to tell the story of Lehi and his family coming to the American continent. I notice that one of the Jewish volunteers is fascinated by what I say. She asks some questions and then replies that it makes sense to her that some of her people would have been led away by the Lord. It's an exciting conversation.
After supper(it was mystery meat), I return to my room. I open a letter from my husband Jim. He reports that the Relief Society has taken pity on him and our five children in my absence and has sent over several hot meals for them. He writes that the kids are really impressed, since no one is even sick. Jim writes of his love for me. I sense his loneliness. Two months is a long time to be apart.
I write in my journal, then write to JIm, tellling him of my excitement about all the new things I'm learning and experiencing. I express my deep gratitude that I have been blessed with a husband who is willing to sacrifice so that I can follow my dream.
Exhaustion takes over, and I say a quick prayer of gratitude to the Lord. I have never felt so tired. I've never felt so alive! I lie down and close my eyes, and am barely asleep when I hear a knock on the door. "Boker tov."
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