Between the Efrat neighborhoods of Zayit and Dagan lies Wadi al-Banat, the “Valley of the Girls.” According to local tradition, this is where King Solomon kept his harem. While there is no physical evidence to support the claim, concubine experts, who requested anonymity, concur that the location—close to Jerusalem but at a discreet distance from the royal palace—does appear to be reasonable.
In close proximity, just north of Dagan Hill, sits one of the most impressive ancient engineering projects in the Land of Israel: Solomon’s Pools. No connection has yet been proven between the reservoirs and the biblical king who built the First Temple is revered by the Freemasons and partnered with the Phoenician King Hiram of Tyre, but the name has endured for centuries.
An engineering marvel
The monumental system consists of three massive reservoirs and four aqueducts. Two aqueducts—the Biyar and Arub systems—brought water into the pools, while two others carried it northward toward Jerusalem’s Temple Mount and Upper City.
Parts of the network remained in use through the British Mandate period, and the pools themselves still hold water today. According to Dr. Azriel Yechezkael, whose doctoral research at Tel Aviv University focused on Jerusalem’s ancient underground water systems, the lowest pool dates to the reign of John (Yochanan) Hyrcanus, the Hasmonean ruler who governed Judea from 134 to 104 BCE. If so, the project was initiated during the only period of complete Jewish independence in the Second Temple era.
The Hasmoneans, descendants of the Maccabees, were priests and originally ethnarchs who adopted kingship, merging religious and political authority over Judea following their successful revolt against the Seleucid Greeks. They strove to create a distinct national identity and invested heavily in Jerusalem’s development around Temple worship.
Historians have long debated that concentration of control; the modern equivalent would be combining the powers of church and state.
Yet in practical terms, responsibility for both the Temple’s ritual functions and its physical infrastructure may help explain the creation of such an ambitious water system at that time.
Identifying the builders is therefore about more than engineering. It offers a window into the political and religious dynamics of one of the most fascinating periods in Jewish history—the era commemorated until today by the holiday of Chanukah.
From the Hasmoneans to the Romans
The archaeological story becomes even more intriguing with the aqueduct leading into the upper pool. In 2021, carbon-14 testing dated portions of the structure to the period of Pontius Pilate and the Roman governors who ruled Judea in the decades before the destruction of the Second Temple in 70 CE.
The first-century Jewish historian Josephus Flavius describes riots that erupted when funds from the Temple treasury designated for sacred use were diverted to a major waterworks project. He recounts the unrest in both The Jewish War and Antiquities of the Jews, where protests against Roman authorities ultimately turned violent.
The scientific dating of the upper pool provides important archaeological support and corroboration for Josephus’s account. The middle pool remains a murky mystery. Some scholars attribute it to Alexander Yannai, Hyrcanus’s son, others to the late first century BCE reign of King Herod, who essentially rebuilt the Temple and its water and drainage systems.
A more recent theory suggests it dates to the Ottoman period, making it only about 500 years old. Some even speculate that the name “Solomon’s Pools” may allude to the first Ottoman ruler, Suleiman the Magnificent, rather than the biblical king.
For now, no consensus exists.
Reconnecting with the past
Given centuries of travelers’ accounts and archaeological investigations by scholars such as Conrad Schick and William F. Albright, one might wonder why so many questions remain unanswered.
The answer is largely political. Under the 1993 Oslo Accords, the pools were left within Bethlehem’s Area A, under full Palestinian Authority control. According to local officials, this resulted from a technical oversight. Whatever the reason, access has since become difficult, limiting archaeological research, verification of earlier findings and even routine maintenance. As a result, concerns have grown regarding both the preservation and future of the site.
Photographs fail to capture the sheer scale of the reservoirs. Their size and depth are striking, even for visitors familiar with Roman-era engineering. In the ancient world, moving water over long distances was not merely practical—it was a statement of power, authority and centralized control.
Some of the shafts and sections of the aqueducts feeding the pools from the south have been restored and can be viewed along the scenic slopes between Efrat and neighboring Elazar. The Solomon’s Pools Project, led by the Efrat Development Foundation in cooperation with the municipality and the IDF, seeks to facilitate access for Israelis and tourists alike.
While a change in the site’s status would make preservation and research easier, organizers are working within current geopolitical realities. Army-escorted visits now take place at least once a month, and members of Knesset recently visited and even swam in the pools. Visits must be coordinated with the local authorities.
Pictures curated by Lenny Ben-David. The writer is a long-time resident of Efrat, a former city councilwoman and licensed Israeli tour guide specializing in tours of Judea and Samaria. This is the first of a series of articles in cooperation with the Efrat Development Foundation.
