In 705 BC, the brilliant warrior King Sargon II of Assyria died far from home, fighting against forces led by the otherwise-obscure Eshpai the Kullumaean. He was the only Assyrian king to be slain in the field, and his death in battle represented a serious blow to Assyrian prestige.
Christians traveled to the oldest monastery in existence, Mar Mattai, or St. Matthews' monastery, to celebrate Orthodox Easter with a midnight mass on Saturday night followed by a feast with the resident monks.
In 2015, an image of a little boy lying face-down on a Turkish beach, who had attempted to flee the war between the Assad regime and ISIS, went viral in the midst of roiling debates over immigration policy.
As I study the early history of Christianity, I become ever more interested by one critical era, namely the decade or so on either side of 200 AD.
A team of researchers are firing high-powered X-rays into a very old book of not-very-interesting hymns. And the explanation for why they're doing so is nearly two millennia in the making.
With a flick of a switch, the lights on the projector came on accompanied by a sharp intake of breath from the assembled crowd at the Bowdoin College Museum of Art. The 3,000-year old Assyrian stone relief in front of them erupted into color.