Temple of Bacchus

Run your hand along the base of a column here. The limestone is cool, slightly rough, and the colour of honey left in the sun. Above you, the stone climbs and climbs, and the light falls in long bars between the columns. Somewhere behind you, a swallow cuts across the courtyard. For a moment, the Beqaa Valley goes quiet, and you are alone with one of the best-preserved Roman temples anywhere in the world.

You are standing in Baalbek, in eastern Lebanon, on a high plain between two mountain ranges. The Lebanon range rises to the west. The Anti-Lebanon rises to the east. In Roman times, this town had a Greek name, Heliopolis, which means the City of the Sun. It was a place of pilgrimage. People travelled here from across the eastern provinces to worship at a vast sanctuary of temples, courtyards and altars. The building in front of you is one part of that sanctuary.

The temple is generally dated to the second century of the common era, when the Roman Empire was at its height. The builders worked on a huge scale. Many visitors say it feels larger than the Parthenon in Athens, and by most accounts it is. Yet the proportions are so balanced that the size only reaches you slowly. Walk to a corner and look along the line of columns. Then look at the people standing beside them. That comparison tells the story better than any number.

Here is the first surprise. Nobody knows for certain that this temple was dedicated to Bacchus, the Roman god of wine. No ancient inscription confirms it. The name comes from the carvings — vines, grapes and scenes that scholars link to Bacchus and his cult. Some researchers have suggested other gods instead. So the name you know is a modern label, based on careful guesswork. It is a good reminder that even famous ruins keep some secrets.

Now look at the columns that surround the building. They are Corinthian columns, the most decorative of the classical styles. You can recognise them by their capitals, the tops of the columns, which are carved with curling acanthus leaves. Acanthus is a plant from the Mediterranean with deep, spiky leaves. On some of the fallen pieces nearby, you can see the leaves up close. Notice how deeply the carvers cut them, so that shadows give the stone real depth.

Walk into the space between the columns and the temple wall, and then look up. This is the ceiling of the colonnade, and it is one of the finest details on the site. The stone is carved into a pattern of geometric frames. Inside many of these frames are the heads and busts of gods and goddesses. Some are worn by time. Others are still clear enough to show a face, a curl of hair, a turned shoulder. Most visitors walk straight past without looking up.

Next, find the great doorway into the temple. It is one of the most richly carved entrances to survive from the Roman world. Stand back and follow the frames around the opening. You will find bands of grapevines and wheat, and poppies, a flower long linked with sleep and dreams. Under the lintel, the huge stone across the top of the doorway, there is a carved eagle. It holds a wand in its claws, and garlands stretch out on either side.

Here is the second surprise. Look at the central block of that lintel. It slipped downward after an earthquake, centuries ago, and it hangs lower than the stones beside it. For a long time, it looked as if it might fall. In modern times, a support was built beneath it to hold it in place. When you see it, you are looking at an ancient building in the middle of a very slow collapse... held still by careful repair.

Step inside. The main hall of a Roman temple is called the cella, the room that held the image of the god. Ordinary worshippers usually stayed outside, so this room was for priests and rituals. The walls are lined with half-columns that stand out from the stone, and between them are two levels of niches. These niches once probably held statues. At the far end, a flight of steps rises to a raised platform, where the most sacred image would have stood.

Why is this temple in such good condition, when so much of Baalbek lies in pieces? Part of the answer is later history. In the Middle Ages, Muslim rulers turned the whole sanctuary into a fortress, and they built walls and towers around the old temples. The fortifications closed in this building and helped protect it. Look around the site and you can still see medieval stonework beside the Roman blocks. Two very different worlds share these walls.

Turn toward the neighbouring sanctuary. Not far from here, six tall columns stand in a row. They belong to the Temple of Jupiter, which was once even larger than this one. Only those six columns still stand. Below them are some of the largest building blocks ever used by the Romans. In a quarry at the edge of town, another giant stone still lies where the workers left it. Engineers and historians still discuss how these blocks were moved.

The temple is not only a ruin. Since the 1950s, the Baalbek International Festival has used this sanctuary as a stage. Singers, orchestras and dancers from Lebanon and around the world have performed among these columns at night. Many Lebanese people have strong memories of concerts here. In 1984, UNESCO listed Baalbek as a World Heritage Site. For the town, the temples are part of daily life, not only part of the past.

Before you leave, stand still for a minute. Notice how the colour of the stone changes as the sun moves — pale gold, then pink, then grey in the shade. Listen to the wind across the plain and the voices of other visitors. Look once more at that hanging stone above the doorway. People have stood in this spot for nearly two thousand years and looked up in the same way. Now it is your turn.