Masada Retold: A View from Masada Post-October 7th

“How many times have you been up here?” is a question I am often asked when I walk through the snake-path gate onto Masada’s impressive plateau.

“Too many to count,” I answer, “But I still get goosebumps. Every single time.”

And it’s true. I’ve walked up the mountain to see the sunrise and stayed long after closing for the sunset. History, drama, opulence, archaeology, theology, ideology, mythos, tragedy, heroism—Masada is a tour guide’s dream site. No matter which way you slice it, the storytelling is unparalleled. Not many tourists have visited our shores since the start of the war. But still, I’ve had the opportunity to visit twice in the past year. The words coming out of my mouth are almost automatic. But my mind is elsewhere, thinking of the atrocities of October 7th, and wondering if my monologue is at all accurate or relevant.

Standing atop this ancient fortress, I speak with pathos and emotion: “We cannot judge them. We know nothing of their lived experience in the clash with Rome, the brutality of Roman subjugation, and their emotional response to the destruction of the Second Temple. No, we cannot put ourselves in their shoes, let alone stand in judgment of their behavior and choices.

“We cannot understand the impossible decisions they faced against Roman pillagers. We cannot comprehend the terror of enslavement, rape, murder—an unimaginably cruel death to all they cherished and loved.”

I choke. We had just been to the Gaza envelope. We met survivors. I could never have imagined in my most terrible nightmares that in my lifetime I would hear testimonies of parents who, after giving up hope of rescue, after witnessing unspeakable horrors, hearing terrorists closing in—hugged their children and asked themselves which one they should kill first so they wouldn’t fall into the hands of Hamas. I take a deep breath and continue. “But their story, overlooked for generations, rekindled with the rise of Zionist idealism and the re-establishment of Jewish sovereignty in the Land, has made Masada the powerful symbol it has become.”

Over the years I’ve learned That the story of Masada impacts not only Jews and Israelis but also gentiles for whom it offers a glimpse into the Jewish soul. After visiting Masada they understand the establishment of the State of Israel was the solution to the age-old ‘Jewish Dilemma’ exemplified at Masada. Here’s the deal: Live as Jews—enslaved, subjugated, vilified, marginalized, and accept being a hated minority. Or – convert. Give up your Jewish identity, turn your back on your people, your God, your heritage. The only other accepted solution? Leave or die.

For 2,000 years, Jews everywhere in the diaspora paid their pound of flesh, whether accepting Dhimmitude under Islamic rule or suffering persecutions, expulsions, and pogroms under Christian rule. The reconstitution of the State of Israel meant that Jews no longer needed to accept humiliation to exist. The IDF—the State of Israel—became our shield and sword against persecution. “Masada Shall Not Fall Again” was the battle cry of the early Zionist movement, and Masada itself a source of inspiration and identification.

October 7th, 2023, marks the failure of the Jewish State to live up to its promise, its raison d’être. The words “never again” rang hollow. The State institutions, the IDF, the entire security apparatus, and consecutive governments that brought us to this point failed miserably—an epic, colossal failure of biblical proportions that will reverberate for generations. If we can’t trust the State, is the Masada Dilemma again at the center of our lives?

Some might say yes. With the rise of antisemitism in the West, especially on college campuses, Jews once again must pay a price for existing. But here in Israel, my answer is a resounding ‘No’. Because unlike at Masada we are not waiting 19 centuries for our resurrection. Today, in the modern State of Israel the Jewish people are making the choice to live. We are rising and writing the new chapter of our history.

Despite the heartbreak of October 7th and the state’s failure to uphold its sacred duty, the true lesson of Masada is not one of despair but of resilience. Just as the Jewish people have endured centuries of persecution, exile, and struggle, so too will we rise from this moment of darkness with strength and determination. The heroism of those who fought, the unity of a nation rallying to defend its people, and the leadership emerging from tragedy all reaffirm that Israel’s story is far from over. Masada was never just about the fall—it was about the unwavering spirit of a people who refuse to be broken. Today, in the solemn orange colored funeral procession the length of Israel, that spirit burns brighter than ever.

The kidnapping and murder of the Bibas family—Shiri, baby Kfir, and four-year-old Ariel—and the brutal, deliberate, torturous murder of other 38 innocent children, is a haunting reminder that the horrors of Masada are not just ancient history. Then, as now, Jewish parents faced choices no one should ever have to make, caught between survival and the cruelty of an enemy without mercy.

But history does not end in tragedy. Just like Masada was never just a story of defeat— the October 7th war is not just a story of tragedy and grief. It is a declaration of resilience and love. The love of parents who would do anything to protect their children, the love of a people who refuse to disappear, the love for the Land we will protect with our lives because we have no other.  It is love that binds us together even in our darkest moments.

Today, in the face of heartbreak, we will overcome discord. Israel will once again prove that it is defined not by its suffering but by its strength, unity, and unbreakable will to live. Those who still question our right to exist, to defend ourselves, should come stand atop Masada and gaze upon the ruins of a once-mighty Roman empire – reminders that oppressors fade into dust, but the Jewish people not only endure but thrive.