While I don't particularly agree with the post you are responding to, I
simply cannot believe that in this day and age of information technology that
there is anyone who still believes your antiquated style of thinking.
First of all, we have humanoid fossils that go back for at least two million
years. We have many, many fossils of Neanderthals who's brains were larger
than ours and through DNA analysis it has been found that there are modern
humans who have Neanderthal DNA in their bodies. The Neanderthals died out
somewhere from about 20 to 40,000 years ago. Then, here's a huge religious
temple site that is more than 11,000 years old and it will take them several
decades to uncover the entire worship site.
God is not incompatible with the theory of evolution.
We used to think agriculture gave rise to cities and later to
writing, art, and religion. Now the world’s oldest temple suggests the urge to
worship sparked civilization.
Every now and then the dawn of civilization is reenacted on a remote
hilltop in southern Turkey.
The reenactors are busloads of tourists—usually Turkish, sometimes
European. The buses (white, air-conditioned, equipped with televisions) blunder
over the winding, indifferently paved road to the ridge and dock like
dreadnoughts before a stone portal. Visitors flood out, fumbling with water
bottles and MP3 players. Guides call out instructions and explanations. Paying
no attention, the visitors straggle up the hill. When they reach the top, their
mouths flop open with amazement, making a line of perfect cartoon O's.
Before them are dozens of massive stone pillars arranged into a set of rings,
one mashed up against the next. Known as Göbekli Tepe (pronounced Guh-behk-LEE
TEH-peh), the site is vaguely reminiscent of Stonehenge, except that Göbekli
Tepe was built much earlier and is made not from roughly hewn blocks but from
cleanly carved limestone pillars splashed with bas-reliefs of animals—a
cavalcade of gazelles, snakes, foxes, scorpions, and ferocious wild boars. The
assemblage was built some 11,600 years ago, seven millennia before the
Great Pyramid of Giza. It contains the oldest known temple. Indeed, Göbekli
Tepe is the oldest known example of monumental architecture—the first
structure human beings put together that was bigger and more complicated than a
hut. When these pillars were erected, so far as we know, nothing of comparable
scale existed in the world.
At the time of Göbekli Tepe's construction much of the human race lived in
small nomadic bands that survived by foraging for plants and hunting wild
animals. Construction of the site would have required more people coming
together in one place than had likely occurred before. Amazingly, the temple's
builders were able to cut, shape, and transport 16-ton stones hundreds of feet
despite having no wheels or beasts of burden. The pilgrims who came to Göbekli
Tepe lived in a world without writing, metal, or pottery; to those approaching
the temple from below, its pillars must have loomed overhead like rigid giants,
the animals on the stones shivering in the firelight—emissaries from a
spiritual world that the human mind may have only begun to envision.
Archaeologists are still excavating Göbekli Tepe and debating its meaning.
What they do know is that the site is the most significant in a volley of
unexpected findings that have overturned earlier ideas about our species' deep
past. Just 20 years ago most researchers believed they knew the time, place, and
rough sequence of the Neolithic Revolution—the critical transition that
resulted in the birth of agriculture, taking Homo sapiens from scattered
groups of hunter-gatherers to farming villages and from there to technologically
sophisticated societies with great temples and towers and kings and priests who
directed the labor of their subjects and recorded their feats in written form.
But in recent years multiple new discoveries, Göbekli Tepe preeminent among
them, have begun forcing archaeologists to reconsider.
At first the Neolithic Revolution was viewed as a single event—a sudden
flash of genius—that occurred in a single location, Mesopotamia, between the
Tigris and Euphrates Rivers in what is now southern Iraq, then spread to India,
Europe, and beyond. Most archaeologists believed this sudden blossoming of
civilization was driven largely by environmental changes: a gradual warming as
the Ice Age ended that allowed some people to begin cultivating plants and
herding animals in abundance. The new research suggests that the
"revolution" was actually carried out by many hands across a huge area
and over thousands of years. And it may have been driven not by the environment
but by something else entirely.
After a moment of stunned quiet, tourists at the site busily snap pictures
with cameras and cell phones. Eleven millennia ago nobody had digital imaging
equipment, of course. Yet things have changed less than one might think. Most of
the world's great religious centers, past and present, have been destinations
for pilgrimages—think of the Vatican, Mecca, Jerusalem, Bodh Gaya (where
Buddha was enlightened), or Cahokia (the enormous Native American complex near
St. Louis). They are monuments for spiritual travelers, who often came great
distances, to gawk at and be stirred by. Göbekli Tepe may be the first of all
of them, the beginning of a pattern. What it suggests, at least to the
archaeologists working there, is that the human sense of the sacred—and the
human love of a good spectacle—may have given rise to civilization itself.
Klaus Schmidt knew almost instantly that he was going to be spending a
lot of time at Göbekli Tepe. Now a researcher at the German Archaeological
Institute (DAI), Schmidt had spent the autumn of 1994 trundling across
southeastern Turkey. He had been working at a site there for a few years and was
looking for another place to excavate. The biggest city in the area is Şanlıurfa
(pronounced shan-LYOOR-fa). By the
standards of a brash newcomer like London, Şanlıurfa is incredibly
old—the place where the Prophet Abraham supposedly was born. Schmidt was in
the city to find a place that would help him understand the Neolithic, a place
that would make Şanlıurfa look young. North of Şanlıurfa the
ground ripples into the first foothills of the mountains that run across
southern Turkey, source of the famous Tigris and Euphrates Rivers. Nine miles
outside of town is a long ridge with a rounded crest that locals call Potbelly
In the 1960s archaeologists from the University of Chicago had surveyed the
region and concluded that Göbekli Tepe was of little interest. Disturbance was
evident at the top of the hill, but they attributed it to the activities of a
Byzantine-era military outpost. Here and there were broken pieces of limestone
they thought were gravestones. Schmidt had come across the Chicago researchers'
brief description of the hilltop and decided to check it out. On the ground he
saw flint chips—huge numbers of them. "Within minutes of getting
there," Schmidt says, he realized that he was looking at a place where
scores or even hundreds of people had worked in millennia past. The limestone
slabs were not Byzantine graves but something much older. In collaboration with
the DAI and the Şanlıurfa Museum, he set to work the next year.
Inches below the surface the team struck an elaborately fashioned stone. Then
another, and another—a ring of standing pillars. As the months and years went
by, Schmidt's team, a shifting crew of German and Turkish graduate students and
50 or more local villagers, found a second circle of stones, then a third, and
then more. Geomagnetic surveys in 2003 revealed at least 20 rings piled
together, higgledy-piggledy, under the earth.
The pillars were big—the tallest are 18 feet in height and weigh 16 tons.
Swarming over their surfaces was a menagerie of animal bas-reliefs, each in a
different style, some roughly rendered, a few as refined and symbolic as
Byzantine art. Other parts of the hill were littered with the greatest store of
ancient flint tools Schmidt had ever seen—a Neolithic warehouse of knives,
choppers, and projectile points. Even though the stone had to be lugged from
neighboring valleys, Schmidt says, "there were more flints in one little
area here, a square meter or two, than many archaeologists find in entire
The circles follow a common design. All are made from limestone pillars
shaped like giant spikes or capital T's. Bladelike, the pillars are easily five
times as wide as they are deep. They stand an arm span or more apart,
interconnected by low stone walls. In the middle of each ring are two taller
pillars, their thin ends mounted in shallow grooves cut into the floor. I asked
German architect and civil engineer Eduard Knoll, who works with Schmidt to
preserve the site, how well designed the mounting system was for the central
pillars. "Not," he said, shaking his head. "They hadn't yet
mastered engineering." Knoll speculated that the pillars may have been
propped up, perhaps by wooden posts.
To Schmidt, the T-shaped pillars are stylized human beings, an idea bolstered
by the carved arms that angle from the "shoulders" of some pillars,
hands reaching toward their loincloth-draped bellies. The stones face the center
of the circle—as at "a meeting or dance," Schmidt says—a
representation, perhaps, of a religious ritual. As for the prancing, leaping
animals on the figures, he noted that they are mostly deadly creatures: stinging
scorpions, charging boars, ferocious lions. The figures represented by the
pillars may be guarded by them, or appeasing them, or incorporating them as
Puzzle piled upon puzzle as the excavation continued. For reasons yet
unknown, the rings at Göbekli Tepe seem to have regularly lost their power, or
at least their charm. Every few decades people buried the pillars and put up new
stones—a second, smaller ring, inside the first. Sometimes, later, they
installed a third. Then the whole assemblage would be filled in with debris, and
an entirely new circle created nearby. The site may have been built, filled in,
and built again for centuries.
Bewilderingly, the people at Göbekli Tepe got steadily worse at temple
building. The earliest rings are the biggest and most sophisticated, technically
and artistically. As time went by, the pillars became smaller, simpler, and were
mounted with less and less care. Finally the effort seems to have petered out
altogether by 8200 B.C. Göbekli Tepe was
all fall and no rise........(more at site)