A tradition dating back to the eighth century identifies Cana with the settlement of Kafr Kanna, eight kilometers from Nazareth. Scholars have suggested alternatives to Kafr Kanna, including Kenet-al-Jalil, Qana, and Ani Kana.
Ava scrolled down absently. She doubted that so-called experts would ever agree on historical Cana’s true location. Then, something caught her attention.
… led to speculation about the ultimate location of the historically significant lost jars of Cana. John 2:12 states that, after the wedding, Jesus “went down to Capernaum with his mother, his brothers, and his disciples; and they remained there a few days.” During this period, Christ may have announced a prophecy, which his followers recorded and sealed in the jars. Archaeologists sought the jars in Capernaum, others dug near modern-day Cana, but most maintain the jars were hidden in Tabgha.
She clicked on the file for Tabgha and found an article illustrated with a picture of a Romanesque mosaic.
Tabgha was described by a contemporaneous source as “not far from Capernaum, facing the Sea of Galilee… a well-watered land where lush grasses grow, with numerous trees and palms. Seven springs provide abundant water.” The Synoptics locate the city in “a desert place” near Bethsaida, but the Gospel of John describes it as lush and grassy. Today, scholars believe a newly discovered archaeological site is the lost city of Tabgha, where the Church of the Multiplication stands. Tabgha is derived from the Greek name Heptapegon, meaning “seven springs.” According to legend, Tabgha was situated on the northwest shore of the Sea of Galilee. St. Jerome referred to Tabgha as eremos, meaning “the solitude.”
Ava opened the next file: “Newly Discovered Archaeological Site.”
Recent excavation, funded by the philanthropist Simon DeMaj, unearthed walls and mosaics of a fourth-century Byzantine church near the junction of Highways 90 and 87, about ten kilometers north of Tiberias. A mosaic depicting fish, loaves, and one of the legendary jars can be seen next to a large rock. Historians believe this location was revered in Byzantine culture.
She shook her head. Did they actually have the nerve to call Simon DeMaj a philanthropist? That word means “lover of mankind.” If he loves humanity so much, she thought, why does he live in a secluded villa and travel by private helicopter?
Although many attribute Tabgha’s annihilation to the Arab invasion, it was more likely destroyed in AD 614 by Persians. Regardless, the city was lost for centuries. German explorers claimed to have rediscovered Tabgha in 1932 while seeking the lost jars of Cana. Because no evidence of the jars has been found at Tabgha or Jerusalem, scholars believe the jars must have been removed to a secret location (probably in Egypt) to prevent their being stolen or destroyed by invaders.
An effete flight attendant with a purely professional smile brought Ava a tiny cup of tomato juice. She’d have preferred the whole can. Maybe she could get a decent Bloody Mary during her three-hour layover. Ava closed her computer, reclined her seat, and dozed until the captain announced they’d begun their descent into Atlanta.
As she waited for the connecting flight, Ava resumed her research. Indexed under “Lost Jars” and “Cana,” she found an article by Professor Alan Millard.
Archaeologists have found several stone jars in the ruined houses of first-century Jerusalem. At least six jars stood in the basement kitchen of the Burnt House. They are 65–80 centimeters (2–2.5 feet) tall, were shaped and finished on a very big lathe, and were given a pedestal foot and simple decoration. Such stone jars would hold large quantities of water for washing and kitchen needs. Flat disks served as lids. The jars at Cana may have been similar to these.
These facts squared with information from a particularly well-researched 2002 piece by Yitzhak Magen.
Barrel-shaped kratars appear in different sizes, from 76 centimeters up to 87 centimeters. These stone jars have a wide opening. Some feature simple patterns while others have elaborate ornamentation, modeled after decorated bronze calyx kratars. Examples found on the Temple Mount have a large hemispheric receptacle and a base composed of a plinth and a torus. Larger kallal-type vessels had circular stone lids ranging from 40 centimeters to 50 centimeters in diameter, with the top surface worked into a profiled molding. The lids’ underside is typically flat, although some have a stepped rim to fit the jar.
Eventually it was time to board. Passengers pushed and jostled their way onto the Boeing 777. A nasal voice boomed over the PA, demanding that everyone follow instructions. After stowing her carry-on and fastening her seat belt, Ava resumed reading until interrupted by the singsong tones of mock courtesy: “Miss, you must be eighteen or older to sit in an exit row.”
Ava looked up to behold a stern attendant whose countenance had been drained of beauty by decades of nagging. “Thanks for the update.”
“Honey, maybe you don’t understand. You can’t sit here unless you’re eighteen.”
Several passengers turned. Blood rushed to Ava’s face. Her eyes widened, then narrowed. “I’m twenty-six,” she snapped. The attendant paused, dubious. Ava went on, “I graduated from Harvard four years ago. Next year I’ll finish my Ph.D. I’m twenty-six. Do you need to see my passport?”
“No, that’s fine,” the woman murmured, wandering off to bother the next passenger.
Paul was bone weary. He felt sand in his shoes, in his hair, even under his fingernails. Strong body odor attested to the fact that he’d not showered for days. Still, the work was exciting. When he accepted this job, he never expected to participate in one of history’s great discoveries. His phone rang. It was Simon, his mercurial boss.
“Get packed, and make sure the truck is ready. We’re going back to HQ. We need to perform more extensive testing, and the field equipment is inadequate. You’ve an hour.”
Grinning, Paul verbally acknowledged the instructions. He loved that Simon called his Yemen office “HQ.” So military! Paul unzipped his bag and started tossing in dirty clothes, toothbrush, razor…
Then he heard angry shouting outside the tent. What now? Had Simon failed to pay sufficient baksheesh to some petty official? Were the diggers demanding overtime? He stepped outside, ready to smooth whatever feathers Simon had ruffled. Paul walked to the truck. A short distance ahead, Simon argued in Arabic with a group of seven locals. Two were very old men. The others were much younger — some looked just fifteen or sixteen. They were shouting and blocking Simon’s progress. Paul couldn’t understand a word, but the argument sounded intense. After a few minutes DeMaj reentered the command tent and gathered his security team. “Uh-oh,” Paul whispered. The guards were tough customers. Technically off-duty police, they were actually thugs. Simon kept them on the payroll to placate Sheik Ahmed, the regional drug lord. They carried AK-47s everywhere they went.
Simon’s security team waved their guns threateningly, but the seven brave Egyptians stood their ground. DeMaj was irate. He threw up his hands in frustration and shouted in Arabic.
Then the guards started firing. Each emptied a full clip into the unarmed men, mowing them down, riddling their bodies with holes. Blood sprayed into the air. Bullets whizzed by Paul’s face; others slammed into the vehicle.
“No!” Paul shouted. He climbed quickly into the truck and punched the ignition. He could overlook bribery, but not murder. Not the murder of innocent civilians. Not the murder of children.