New experiments indicate that small, cone-shaped clay vessels dating back 6,000 years could contain burning beeswax and function as reliable lamps for hours.
The results suggest these items were probably intended to illuminate ceremonies or gatherings rather than being used for routine cooking or food preparation.
Residue on the cones
A study brought 35 complete cones and roughly 550 fragments from a Jerusalem collection under renewed scrutiny.
By comparing soot marks with waxy deposits, Sharon Zuhovitzky, an archaeologist at Tel Aviv University (TAU), connected several cones with burning wax.
Zuhovitzky identified soot within the pointed bases that remained on the inner surfaces, indicating that the blackening occurred before the vessels broke.
Armed with these physical traces, TAU researchers were able to investigate whether the cones could safely contain hot wax while being moved in real conditions.
Testing the wax lamp
One investigation followed cornets, the cone-shaped ceramic vessels of the period, as beeswax-filled replicas were lit.
After ignition, the wick pulled melted wax upwards, while the vapour from the burning wax produced heat without exposing the holder’s hand to it.
“In my experimental work, beeswax-filled cornets burned for up to nine hours,” Zuhovitzky said.
The duration of burning increased or decreased according to the quantity of wax inside, meaning that ancient lamps probably differed depending on available supplies and individual choices.
Why soot was missing
The absence of soot had previously weakened the lamp interpretation, as many excavated cones appeared clean on the inside.
When the wick was positioned centrally, wax solidified around it and prevented the flame from reaching the ceramic walls.
During replica experiments, the flame remained steady in wind and while walking, while most vessels acquired very little soot.
Since extensive smoke staining need not be expected, archaeologists can assess these cones through wax residues and their archaeological setting.
Wax clues elsewhere
Organic residue analysis, a chemical technique that identifies ancient fats and waxes, detected traces of heated beeswax in cornets from five sites.
Heating altered the wax, with some compounds penetrating the pottery’s pores and leaving markers that endured through long burial.
Despite the chemical match, many archaeologists continued to favour dairy-processing or metalworking explanations, partly because soot was so seldom found.
At Teleilat Ghassul, chemical evidence, replicated burning and ritual context came together, meaning the lamp interpretation depended on more than a single clue.
Conserving precious beeswax
Beeswax would have been valuable, while unfired clay beehives do not survive; evidence only emerges thousands of years later at Tel Rehov in northern Israel.
Packing the lower point with clay cut the amount of wax needed and raised the flame, allowing its light to travel further.
“This would reduce the volume of wax required and improve the lighting function by positioning the flame higher in the vessel,” said Zuhovitzky.
Such economy would have been important if wax was limited, and may explain why some cones had pre-made handles for suspension.
Suspended lighting design
Perforated handles appeared on many cones, and their horizontal holes seem suited to threading cord rather than ornamentation.
A cord passed through two holes enabled a lamp to be suspended, whereas four holes kept it more stable and helped prevent wax from spilling.
Form was also significant: bases with long tails often had no handles, while flatter bases generally did.
The availability of both suspended and hand-held lighting allowed illumination to travel with a moving crowd before remaining overhead in a crowded room.
Damage with intention
Impact marks on solid bases revealed where a cone had been struck forcefully, although an initial blow did not always shatter it.
Microscopic examination showed that matching patina – a surface film that develops slowly during burial – covered the dents and scratches.
Pits containing broken fragments were located in places considered sacred, leading the authors to consider intentional breaking and burial.
If the damage was ritual, it would indicate that a lamp’s use ended deliberately and draw attention to the people who produced them.
Making cones in minutes
Practical replica work at TAU indicated that one cone could be made in around ten minutes without requiring an expert potter.
With a round-cut stick, the maker hollowed out the clay and reduced the wall thickness, then extended the base using wet fingers.
Minerals in the local clay corresponded with soils near Teleilat Ghassul, although differing recipes pointed to numerous makers.
Simple production suits a ceremony in which visitors arrived with clay and wax, created light before taking part in a night-time ritual.
Lighting Teleilat Ghassul’s painted sanctuaries
Teleilat Ghassul is in present-day Jordan, approximately 3 miles (4.8 kilometres) north-east of the Dead Sea, and attracted crowds.
Vivid wall paintings depicted processions and masks, and the authors argued that flame-lit cones were appropriate for outdoor movement as well as indoor spaces.
Groups of these vessels were discovered near painted areas and a sanctuary zone, supporting the idea of communal vigils.
From this perspective, the cones no longer appear to be implements for food or metalworking, but instead ritual equipment.
Cones as ritual lamps
Evidence from residue analysis, replica burning and archaeological context associates a basic ceramic cone with communal nights in which people carried and shared light.
Future residue testing could distinguish lamps from other uses of cones and may reveal how frequently wax powered these gatherings.
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