The Archaeologist
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Professor Asher Meyer, Ph.D., towered over his class of 23 students at the University of Jerusalem, standing more than six feet tall. With his athletic build and piercing blue eyes, he looked more like a handsome athlete than the scholarly mind guiding a college lecture. The contrast was not lost on his students, who often misjudged him based on appearances alone.
Although becoming a college professor was never his dream, it now served a practical purpose—managing the financial obligations left in the wake of his pending divorce. At thirty-eight, his life bore little resemblance to the dreams of his youth.
Growing up in Jerusalem, one of the most historically rich regions in the world, he developed a deep fascination with archaeology. This interest began with childhood visits to the Western Wall with his father and school trips to ancient temple ruins. While he excelled academically, consistently ranking at the top of his classes from high school through college, he also had a passion and talent for sports. During his early college years, he actively participated in campus and community sports leagues.
By his sophomore year, he faced a pivotal decision: whether to pursue a professional career in athletics or commit fully to academia. He wrestled with the choice, torn between his love for competition and his hunger for discovery. In the end, he chose scholarship over sports, seeing archaeology as the perfect bridge between his two passions—an ideal blend of intellectual challenge and physical activity.
Yet now, he found himself doing precisely the opposite. He was tied to a position that offered neither mental nor physical challenges.
This class, First Century Jerusalem, was a breeze for him. Armed with a bachelor's degree in archaeology, a master's and doctorate in anthropology, and a decade of fieldwork, he could have written the textbook himself. He had explored nearly every site it described, many more than once. In fact, he had noted at least three errors that he fully intended to address with the publisher.
Born and raised in Jerusalem, he knew the city like the back of his hand. Though raised a Reformed Jew, he was not a man of faith. To him, the Bible was not a sacred text but an indispensable guide to ancient ruins—a tool for uncovering history rather than discovering a living god.
Fluent in Hebrew, English, and Modern Greek, and conversant in Arabic, as well as the largely extinct languages of Aramaic and Koine Greek, he was at ease practically anywhere in the Middle East. Yet, despite his extensive knowledge and training, the classroom never felt natural.
His heart yearned to be back in the field, unearthing secrets buried for centuries. But for now, he needed stability—something secure while he worked to put his life back on track.
Just three years ago, life had been markedly different. He was happily married, held a promising job, enjoyed a vibrant social circle, had a flourishing career, and was on the verge of securing a book deal that seemed destined for success. Everything felt simpler and more structured. Then, in what seemed like the blink of an eye, it all began to unravel.
Betrayal and disappointment replaced those things.
In truth, he wasn’t surprised—life had been teaching him that lesson for years. He found trusting women risky. Actually, he believed people in general couldn’t be trusted—too often, they were uninformed and easily misled. And he was determined to prove them all wrong—especially by proving, once and for all, that his claims in Herod the Great and His Great Treasure were factual.
The idea for the book came to him while working on his Ph.D. dissertation, which explored the Herodian dynasty, a lineage of five rulers. Of them, Herod the Great stood out as the most renowned and celebrated for his monumental building projects, ambitious political maneuvering, and immense wealth. His fortune, amassed through heavy taxation, extensive land holdings, and strategic Roman alliances, captivated Asher’s imagination. Yet, more than Herod’s political genius or architectural feats, it was his legendary treasure that intrigued Asher most.
While his dissertation was a success, the book was a different story. Many of the colleagues he had counted on for endorsement and support did the exact opposite. Some dismissed his research as biased, while others, in his view, were too ignorant to even debate the subject. Proving them all wrong became his mission. The bigger question was how. He needed funding—for research and promotion—but money was the one thing he had in short supply.
"Dr. Meyer, do you believe Herod the Great was a genius or a madman?" asked a student in the front row, a hint of challenge in his tone.
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Asher recognized the bait instantly. It was common knowledge around campus that he had written a book and the controversies surrounding it. He hesitated, weighing his options. Engaging in the debate would consume the rest of the class period, a tempting prospect given his growing impatience with routine lectures. He enjoyed a good mental challenge—the kind this debate would surely provide. Few topics intrigued him more than the paradox of Herod’s rule. But was it worth the time?
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Time—more precisely, the use of time—was always on his mind. Not just as a historian but as a man captivated by how it shaped everything: reputations, legacies, and even truth itself. After a brief pause, he decided to spend his wisely. "Only time will tell," he said in jest.
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Little did he know how prophetic those words would become.