The road to Masada

Masada lies at the southern end of the Dead Sea. Once built as a palace for Herod, it eventually became refuge for Jewish rebels under Roman occupation. After the second temple was destroyed in Jerusalem, the few rebels that where left headed south to Masada, a huge fortress that sits high on a single plateau over looking vast stretches of desert and the Dead Sea. Nearly 1000 Jews, men, women, and children fled to Masada with an entire Roman legion in pursuit. The Romans completely surrounded the fort and for nearly 3 years built a siege ramp in order to attack. Finally the ramp was completed and the walls of the fortress where destroyed, leaving nothing in the way of the advancing Roman forces. Having no where to go the Jews where forced between certain slavery or death. On the fateful night before the Roman forces advanced through the destroyed walls, all of the inhabitants of the fort, including women and children, committed suicide as their final act of defiance against Rome. Today the Jewish army takes a loyalty oath on Masada before beginning their time of service, a type of symbol of the Jews desire to live in a free homeland.

As I walked the ancient ruins of this place all I could feel was a deep sense of sadness. Thousands of years ago Jews chose death over occupation and oppression, today they find themselves the occupiers and oppressors. I am saddened because the Jewish people feel that this is necessary action to create a home, and I am saddened that death is the only option the Palestinian’s feel is available to defend a home. How terribly sad and ironic it is that two peoples can share such an understanding and yet are never able to truly see the other side.

This is a land filled with religious pilgrims who have come here to view the history of their personal faiths. Yet the glaring reality of the tragedy of faith is missed completely as they board their buses and buy their postcards. What type of faith is this?