OK, after this, I'll be as caught up as I'm going to get. It might be a while before I post again, as what I'm currently reading is an unpublished manuscript, and the book up after that doesn't look like a quick read at all.
The final book to mention at the end of what amounts for me to be a flurry of posts is Graham Hancock's The Sign and the Seal. Hancock was the East African correspondent for The Economist until he began to write freelance in the early 1980's, when he became familiar with Ethiopian culture and politics. Part of this culture is the fervent belief that the Ark of the Covenant-- yes, THAT Ark of the Covenant--is kept even today under guard in the town of Axum. The story goes that the Ark was transported to Ethiopia during the time of Solomon, who had a son with the Queen of Sheba (whom the legend asserts was Ethiopian). This son went to visit Solomon, and made off with the Ark, transporting it to secrecy and safety in Northern Africa.
At first, Hancock took this story simply for that: a story. But then, several years later, he was visting Chartres with his family when he noticed something interesting in one of the archway freizes: a carving of the Queen of Sheba with an African/Ethiopian under her foot. The carving and a few others on the cathedral piqued Hancock's interest and set him off on a journey of many years in search of answers.
The best parts of this book, the parts which make it feel like a researcher's detective novel, are Hancock's rexamination of the facts known: the Knights Templar involvement in Jerusalem during the Crusades: the Falusha, a peculiar isolated Jewish tribe of Ethiopia; the establishment of a Jewish temple on an island in the Nile which may have been a stopping point for the Ark; the convergence of the Ark and the Holy Grail in medieval literature; etc. It's fascinating to see how Hancock pulls the pieces together, and at least opens some reasonable questions about the veracity of the legend.
The worst parts of the book, though, threaten to undermine a lot of the solid foundations Hancock lays. Two specific points come to mind: the time when, near the end of his journey, he makes a terribly irresponsible disclaimer-- that he doesn't care how the academics and scholars reply to his work. In other words, he won't accept scholarly inquiry or verification of his work, although he generously provides a very long bibliography. The second glaring fault, though, seems to justify his nervousness: a long passage in the middle of the book arguing that much of the advanced knowledge necessary to create an object as powerful as the Ark depicted in the Old Testament must have been derived from an ancient, unknown, and long disappeared civilization-- Atlantis.
Is the book still worth reading even with these thinly drawn speculations at its heart? Surprisingly, I would say yes, because I feel that the rest of the book would still be strongly formed without the Atlantis interlude. I want to call that section nonsense, but maybe I would be too quick to dismiss all of his observations out of hand. Not that I believe in the Atlantis myth for a second. However, there have been many observations of knowledge and civilizations lost over the centuries. This passage was the only area where Hancock's suppositions seemed utterly incredible, even though some of the others were a reach.
Even if the Atlantis section clunks down in the middle of the book like a malformed plaything, it somehow suits the topic, however, to have such mythology at its base. For a secular Christian society, the world wobbles atop fantastic stories of all sorts, and the metaphors shift in and out of literal reality with the passing time. The story of the Ark of the Covenant--and, if Hancock is to be believed, the corresponding quests for the Holy Grail-- is the iconic myth of valor, power, and holy favor. I mean, for us children of the 80's, there are few movie scenes more memorable than the one near the end of Raiders of the Lost Ark, when Indy and Marion are tied to the posts and the Ark is opened. Faces melt, souls are released, the magic sand of the desert does not like being mocked.This may be a trivial manifestation of the myth, but it does show the power of the story to captivate us even now.
There is a point near the end of the book when Hancock resigns himself to never actually seeing the true Ark. He realizes that he will have to be satisfied with the many symbolic replicas easily approachable at churches throughout Ethiopia. According to popular belief, THE Ark, of course, is jealously guarded, and although everyone knows of its existence, they know through faith, and not through being allowed to verify through facts and witness. There is a moment when that is enough. The strength of the story has carried through more than a thousand years, and there are still people who want to believe it so badly that they will dedicate their lives to protecting it. For at this point, the story and the artifact become one and the same.