Caesaria stands bleached in the blazing sun, the Mediterranean pushing up against the old wharf, a lasting memory of Herod the Great. Herod may have been arrogant and brutal, but no one else in his world built a massive port city where there was no natural bay or harbor.
The theater is partially restored and the hippodrome stands waiting for horses. You can close your eyes and almost hear the crowd of men roaring, the hooves pounding the sand as horses pulling chariots make the sharp and dangerous curve in front of the Roman rulers.
Marble and granite columns lie scattered on the ground brought from north Africa and Turkey, two or three to a ship. Some are recycled into Crusader walls that rise behind the ruins.
The sea has done it’s work and most of Herod’s harbor lies beneath the waves. Tsunamis and harsh weather tossed his cement and walls into the air, and then buried them deep. The great port didn’t survive the waves and earthquakes.
All except the broken pieces. But the name of Herod remains today in our minds and world, and after all, isn’t that a fair measure of greatness?
1 comment:
herod's an icky person to have to deal with for me. i look at all he built: herodium, masada, the temple, and here at caesarea maritima... and for some reason i want him to have been a good man. but, perhaps tito was right--that he built these things to be remembered, because he knew that people would not applaud his character after he died. maybe herod could not have been both great and good. sigh...
though, to his credit, caesarea was beautiful.
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