Live well. It is the greatest revenge. - Talmud
In case you need a little Matzo Ball Soup for the Soul, then this story is for you.
It is a tale so true. So profound. So poignant in its defiant lesson: that true heroes are the ones that never came home.
Such was the story that our Palestinian guide thoughtfully recounted here on Masada.
An isolated looming mesa.
Gaunt, majestic, rugged.
The name means 'stronghold.' Built around 30 BC in southern Israel’s Judean desert, it is a symbol of the ancient kingdom, its violent destruction, and the last Jewish stronghold against Roman invasion.
You can hike to the top of the famous fortress on the so-called 'snake path.' But seriously? It's 1,300 feet above the Dead Sea.
Count me out. I'm choosing the path of least resistance.
Going up! Via cable car.
Cliffs hung over us on the steep climb. Countless years of weathering by wind and water had shaped the stone into bizarre formations.
I'd say that King Herod was both gutsy and innovative in his property choice for building a luxurious desert fortress. Or he went all-Monopoly Cheaters and built on top of the intimidating tower without owning the requisite number of property. But definitely had good foresight, for here was the place that the Jewish patriots took refuge when the temple was destroyed.
I can read the questions that are on your mind.
Was it easy for them to settle here?
Was it challenging to adjust?
And were they able to survive without a Super-Yuda supermarket?
Actually, our guide had a handy answer. Despite its high elevation, the fortress had huge storehouses and cisterns which contained months’ worth of food and water.
There were also barracks, armories, and defensive structures. See that eighteen-foot high fortification around its perimeter? And those steep cliffs on all sides making the flat-topped mountain look virtually impregnable?
So it seemed that all would go well.
But did it?
Masada was sieged by the Roman legion between 73 to 74 AD. When General Flavius couldn't reach the small band of defiant holdout living at the top, he brought in thousands of slaves and spent several months building an embankment up the backside of the mountain in order to wheel a battering ram up against it. After a year, the soldiers were able to breach the fortress.
Oy vey! Woe is me!
Yet the besieged Jews wouldn't give up hope and surrender. In a last desperate act of valor, the men, women, and children - 953 in all - chose to take their lives rather than surrender.
The desert wind sent waves of dust across my path, but I was intent on hearing the story through its end.
Israeli men and women are now asked to serve in the Defense Forces to safeguard the country. After completing basic training, the new soldiers climb Masada's 'snake path' at night after which they are sworn in during a mountaintop torch-lit ceremony.
Their final declaration could well be the rallying call for the Mazel-Tov-ever-after marathon of movies. It is a daring testament.
For the storms ahead.
For the mountains yet to climb.
Masada shall not fall again.
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