Temple of Jupiter

Stand still for a moment and feel the stone under your feet. It is warm, pale limestone, smoothed by centuries of footsteps and dusted gold by the wind from the Beqaa Valley. Above you, six columns rise into an open sky. They are all that remain upright of a temple that once had dozens. Listen, and you may hear swifts cutting through the air between them, and the faint sounds of the modern town of Baalbek beyond the walls.

This is the Temple of Jupiter, the largest temple the Romans built anywhere in their empire. That is not a local boast. Scholars across the field agree on it. The Romans called this city Heliopolis, which means the City of the Sun. Long before Rome arrived, though, this hilltop was already sacred. People here worshipped Baal, a Semitic sky and storm god, and the town still carries his name today.

When Rome took control of the region, it did not erase the older god. Instead, it blended him with its own. The result was Jupiter Heliopolitanus, a local form of Jupiter, the Roman king of the gods. He was worshipped here alongside two companions, often identified with Venus and Mercury. Historians call this group the Heliopolitan Triad. Pilgrims came from across the eastern Mediterranean to consult the oracle of this god.

Now look up at those six columns. Each one is around twenty metres tall, roughly the height of a six-storey building. Notice that the shafts are smooth, not fluted with vertical grooves. At the top, the capitals carry carved acanthus leaves. This is the Corinthian style, the most decorative of the classical orders. Every column is built from several huge drums of stone, stacked and fitted with remarkable precision.

Try to picture the full building. Originally, a ring of columns surrounded the inner sanctuary on all four sides. Most accounts count fifty-four of them, ten across each short end and nineteen along each long side. The whole structure stood on a raised platform, so that the temple rose high above the courtyards below. From the valley floor, it would have been visible for many kilometres... a white crown on the hill.

The work took a very long time. Construction began in the late first century before Christ, around the time of the first Roman emperor, Augustus. It continued for generations, into the following century. Many builders who laid the foundations never saw the roof completed. Their grandchildren carried the project forward, block by block.

Here is the first detail that surprises most visitors. Walk around to the western side of the platform and look at the lowest courses of stone. You will find three enormous blocks laid side by side, high up in the wall. This is the Trilithon. Each block is commonly estimated at around eight hundred tonnes. No one has a complete answer for how Roman engineers lifted them into place. Ramps, levers and huge teams of workers are the most likely explanation.

And there is more. Not far from here, in an ancient quarry at the edge of town, even larger blocks still lie where the masons left them. The best known is called the Stone of the Pregnant Woman. In 2014, archaeologists from the German Archaeological Institute found another block beneath it, one of the largest worked stones ever discovered. Those stones never left the quarry. Perhaps the Romans finally reached their limit.

Now step back and look at the ground near the columns. Huge pieces of the fallen upper structure lie scattered here. These pieces once sat above the columns, carrying a richly carved band of decoration. Look closely and you may spot carved lion heads along the edge. They were not only decoration. They served as spouts to carry rainwater off the roof. Seen up close, their scale is hard to believe.

Why are so few columns still standing? The answer lies in centuries of change. After the Roman Empire became Christian, the temples lost their purpose. In the late fourth century, a Christian basilica was built inside the great courtyard in front of this temple. Later, under Arab rule, the whole sacred complex became a fortress. Its thick walls protected the town, and many temple stones were reused in new construction.

Then came the earthquakes. This region sits on active fault lines, and powerful tremors struck again and again over the centuries. Column after column fell. By the time European travellers arrived in the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries, only these six remained upright. Their sketches and engravings made Baalbek famous across Europe. In 1898, the German emperor Wilhelm the Second visited, and German excavations began here soon afterwards.

Here is the second surprise. These ruins are not only a place of the past. Since the 1950s, the Baalbek International Festival has used these temples as a stage. Singers, orchestras and dancers have performed here under the stars, with the columns lit from below. Some of the greatest names in Arab music, including the Lebanese singer Fairuz, have sung on these steps. In 1984, the site was also added to the UNESCO World Heritage list.

Before you leave, turn toward the Temple of Bacchus nearby. It is smaller, but far better preserved, with its walls and much of its ceiling still intact. Seeing the two together helps you imagine what this giant once looked like. Then look back at the six columns. Notice how their colour changes as the light moves, from pale cream to honey and then to rose as the sun drops behind the mountains.

Take one last look along the length of the platform. Imagine fifty-four columns where now there are six, and crowds of pilgrims climbing toward the sanctuary. Then listen again to the present: the wind, the birds, the voices of other visitors. As you walk away, glance back once more. From a distance, these columns still hold the hill exactly as their builders intended... upright, and facing the sun.