Read an Excerpt
CHAPTER 1
Masada
The three travelers moved slowly toward it.
"Masada!"
The mountain lay before them like a giant ship whose keen prow had sliced into the red-yellow earth of the Judean Hills. Its head reared thirteen hundred feet above the hollows and peaks of the surrounding wasteland.
The Lord in His infinite wisdom had created Masada at this very point, but it was one man above all others who had shaped it further to suit his purposes. King Herod had loved the Greek way of life, and here the Greek imprint was plainly visible. To adorn the land of Israel with Greek art and architecture had become a passion to which he had devoted his whole life.
Why? So he could achieve the two fold aim of enjoying the luxuries of that civilization and at the same time flaunt to the world his success and power. Thirty-eight towers made of dolomite stone quarried on the spot, and hundreds of fluted columns with capitals in the form of Greek scrolls crowned the fortress of Masada, silhouetted against the intensely blue Judean skies above.
Ohada's eyes followed the lines of the structure from the top down to the rounded walls on the second level, one hundred feet below, then to its lowest level, which struck her as exquisitely beautiful.
Herod! The name always created argument whenever men gathered in council or even for friendly conversation. Was he a traitor or patriot? Now, standing at the base of the cliff, Ohada could only admire the skill and imagination of the man, villain though he might have been, who had dreamed of such a magnificent building. Castle and fortress — this was the palace of Masada, built with strength yet with grace and beauty, too.
"Too-oo-ooooooo!"
From the walls above, the call of the shofar warned of the approach of the little party. The guards on the walls had watched their coming and were now surrounded by a large group of people peering into the ravine.
The shofar! The thin, thrilling summons sounded in Ohada's ears like the call of history. To her it was the trumpet blast of the Lord of Hosts who had stood on Mount Sinai to deliver the sacred Law. From Joshua to the Maccabees, the keening wail ran like a thread through the story of her people. Now once again the shofar would rally the Jews, this time in their battle against the mightiest foe of all times — the Romans.
Truly, thought Ohada, the Jewish people are among the most courageous. Theirs was the same blood as that of King David, and now it flowed in the veins of men like Eleazar ben Ya'ir, the commander of the fort above on the mountain. Ohada wondered if he was one of the people now looking down on them. Even in far-off Babylon, his deeds of bravery had reached their ears. What was he like, she wondered. Did he carry a sharp knife in his belt, like those who had earned for themselves the dread name of Sicarii: the daggered ones?
The three travelers in the Nahal Sebbeh sank down on the sun-warmed rocks and waited for permission to proceed. It would be dangerous to go farther. Already bows were being bent on the battlements above. Who was to know whether these newcomers were friend or foe? Rome had her spies.
Ohada sat near Adin. As always, a feeling of strength and reassurance seemed to flow from him. Only through his constant determination had she been able to complete the long journey begun in Nahardea of Babylon so many months ago and now ending with the tiresome and monotonous stretch from Qumran on the west bank of the Asphalt Sea, as some called the Dead Sea.
Yeshu sat alone on a rock at a little distance from the couple, as though still showing his preference for the lonely life he had led with the Essenes in the stark desert outpost of Qumran. His delicate hand rested on the jars containing the scrolls he had brought with him. They were a small remnant of his community's library, which he and others of his sect had hidden in caves upon the approach of the Romans. One of the scrolls was Ecclesiasticus, written by the sage Ben-Sira. From this master, Yeshu had learned that true wisdom is the revelation of God. From the words of this teacher, Yeshu had guided and shaped his life — a life devoted to piety of mind and discipline of body.
In his other hand, Yeshu carried the Book of Jubilees. To Ohada it made difficult reading because it was written in Hebrew, while her mother tongue was Aramaic. However, she could understand and love the stories when Yeshu read them aloud to her. Written down by the Qumran sect, they were the legends that told about the adventures of Father Abraham in his wanderings through the land of Mesopotamia into the land of Canaan — the very journey she had, in fact, just completed herself. How these stories had enlivened the evenings in the ruins of Qumran and helped her over the thirty long miles to Masada!
Adin stirred by her side. Ohada looked up at his face. Little was said between them. The impressive rock that lay before them, the loneliness of the place, and their tiredness kept them silent. Indeed, there was not much need for words. Their marriage had stood up against the opposition of their families, who had forbidden the trip and had foretold the dangers that lay before them. The separation from their families had been difficult, and the young people missed the relatives who had begged them to remain with them in the security of Babylonia.
Now the touch of her hand on Adin's seemed to say, "Our journey is over!"
His answering smile spoke more than words.
He offered her a drink from the goatskin container he carried over his shoulder: spring water from the wells of Ein Gedi. Ohada refused, as did Yeshu. The sight of their goal drove all thought of thirst or discomfort from their minds.
Two figures could be distinguished coming down the white path that led from the summit to what seemed to be the midpoint between the northern and southern ends of the rock. The travelers began to move toward the men coming to meet them.
Surely neither goats nor gazelles could have managed the descent more gracefully than these Zealots. On their backs, bow and quiver swung to the rhythm of their movement. Sliding frequently, they propelled themselves rapidly and skillfully down the pebbly tracks. Tied around their waists were plaited ropes, which they had brought to aid those less experienced than themselves. On their feet were heavy Roman-style sandals, with broad straps that protected and strengthened the ankles.
At the base of the path, the mountaineers reached for their bows and arrows before advancing boldly toward the three travelers.
"Who are you and what do you seek?" The question was addressed to all, but it was Ohada, always impulsive, who answered first. "I am Ohada, the daughter of Ezra, a scribe of Nahardea. I have come here to take part in the struggle for the freedom of my people Israel from the yoke of the Romans."
She spoke quickly and firmly. The words came without hesitation because she had long formulated them in her mind. All during the wearisome journey she had repeated to herself the purpose of her venture. Thus had she borne the rigors and perils, growing more steadfast in her convictions.
The interrogator's eyes turned to Adin. Adin spoke simply in few words.
"I have come to fight for my people. This was part of the vows of marriage that Ohada, daughter of Ezra, and I made to each other on our wedding day."
Ohada flashed her husband a grateful smile. Now it was Yeshu's turn, and the words burst forth like a spring suddenly freed.
"My name is Yeshu of the Qumran sect. At the time the Kittim, cursed be their name, captured Qumran, I was absent taking a message from the brethren to Ein Gedi. I returned to find the settlement in ruins. I have come to avenge the blood of my brethren, and I will take up the sword with the Sicarii of Masada. It is written in our book, The Manual of Discipline, that the Sons of Darkness will be annihilated. I believe that there will be a victory of the just over the wicked."
The vision of Yeshu bearing a sword caused a half-smile to appear on the lips of one of the youths, but it disappeared quickly as he said, "Blessed are you who come in the name of the Lord."
And then, hungry for the news of the outside world, the two young warriors let the questions come tumbling forth. They spoke Aramaic, the language common to all Jews of the time.
"What news of the Galilee?"
"What news of our brethren who are scattered in the lands of the Romans? Will they come to help us, or will they listen to the lies of the traitor Josephus?"
"Will they come to fight the heathen or remain in their comfortable homes in the empire of the eagle?"
Adin responded explosively.
"The Galilee! The Lord has forsaken us in the Galilee. The dark days before the coming of the Messiah have come. Now there is only Masada. Here in Masada, we, with the help of God, will prove that the people of the Book have not been forsaken. Masada will be the instrument of God. Here for the greater glory of God we will make our stand and drive out the accursed Romans. We will chastise them like dogs."
Ohada was filled with pride to hear her husband speak out so courageously. The child in her womb stirred for the first time at that moment. To Ohada it came as an omen. God had given her a sign of hope. It would be a boy, she determined, and the boy would live to see Israel a free nation. She would name him Yehudah, after the Maccabee who had freed the Jewish people from the idol-worshiping Greeks.
A recollection of her grandmother came to her mind. How she had lived with memories of her people and how she would have cherished this moment! The family of Ohada had returned to the land that had been the beginning and the fulfillment of the Jewish people.
Ohada silently blessed this moment.
"Blessed art Thou, O Lord, King of the universe, who hast kept us alive and sustained us and brought us to this moment!"
CHAPTER 2
Between Heaven and Earth
For Ohada, the first days of Masada were like a dream. If, as many believed, the heaven that lay above them was the abode of God, then surely Massada was close to heaven and she was close to God. The blue sky was so bright and pure and clean that it seemed she had only to stretch out her hand to touch it. Here one could truly believe with the Pharisees that there would be an afterlife for the righteous, as a reward for their devotion to God while they were on earth. How cold the Sadducees seemed with their insistence that nothing followed this earthly existence!
The atmosphere in the community was tense; war stood on their very doorstep. Perhaps because of that, Ohada found a special consolation and beauty in the prayers during her first Sabbath on Masada.
The day began with the service in the synagogue whose roof was the sky. The synagogue lay directly to the left of what had been Herod's private palace. Sitting on the edge of the amphitheater, Ohada enjoyed an eagle's view of austere beauty. The prayers were oriented toward Jerusalem, on which the thoughts of the congregation dwelt constantly. By turning her head to the east, Ohada could see the red of the mountains of Moab. In between, the rays of the sun played on the dull, salt waters of the Dead Sea far below. It resembled a mirror of polished metal, and she fancied that it had been clouded over by the breath of the divine Creator.
Her eyes followed the cleft of the Jordan Valley; many miles to the northwest lay the city for which she yearned, now captive under the heel of the alien Kittim. Never had she been privileged to see the city of Mount Zion, the work of Yedidiah, whose other name was Solomon, lover of God. His buildings had been erased and now lay in shambles on the holy mount. Never would she be able to wend her way three times a year, as pilgrims had done for countless centuries, to the very center of the world — Jerusalem.
Eleazar ben Ya'ir stood in the men's section, his talit over his head as his deep voice affirmed the hope that Jerusalem would be rebuilt speedily. His words seemed to form a vow to regain the Holy City. Thus at the same time would he avenge the death of his uncle, Menachem. Was Eleazar covering his eyes to drive out the awful sight of his uncle naked and writhing silently under the lashes of the flagrum, the whip with chains, that a grinning Roman was bringing down on the pulp that was once a proud, living man? Was Eleazar seeing again the faces of the Romans standing in square formation and enjoying the sight of a man being humiliated and tortured? Was Eleazar deliberately trying to imprint on his memory the scene of his uncle's flayed and mangled body stretched on the crude cross for all to see?
Jerusalem! How had the mighty fallen! It was a haunting nightmare. Ohada's mind shied away from the frightful picture the remembrance brought up in the mind of every Jew. Beside her on the women's benches sat women and children still bearing the signs of the suffering and starvation they had endured during the long siege. Rats and mice were the food of the poor people, and desperate mothers had searched the refuse heaps for any scraps that might serve to still for a while the crying of their hungry children.
Rounded, bloated bellies and thin sticklike legs were not easily mended. It was a wonder — indeed, a miracle — that such little legs had been able to make the trek across the Judean Hills, a difficult journey for both man and beast. Some miracle of God had carried these children through to Masada.
Ohada breathed a silent prayer that the baby she was carrying would bring redemption to Israel and a new world of peace for all mankind. Surely the Creator would make the cause of light prevail over the powers of darkness and evil. Some men gave this evil power the name of Satan. Yeshu believed with the Essenes that the spirit of impurity was the spirit of Satan. In fact, like all Essenes, he prayed every day: "Let Satan and an impure spirit not rule over me and let not pain or evil inclinations claim power over my bones."
White-shawled Pharisees and Essenes draped in their robes of white, together with hard-bitten Zealots, rose together to honor the return of the scrolls of the Law to the ark. Then the congregation slowly filed out into the open area of the camp. As they strolled down the short path that led to the northern wall, Ohada and Adin caught a glimpse of the Western Path over which they had made their ascent on that· fateful night. Every detail of the climb remained etched in their memory.
At the suggestion of the guards and to make it easier for Ohada, they had waited for the fierce sun of the month of Elul to set before beginning the steep climb. By the time they had completed the ascent, the mystery of the night lay before them and around them, and the harvest moon had reached its full power. Baruch and Nachum, the guards, had relieved them of their burdens, leaving the newcomers free to grasp the rocks whenever the footing was unsure. With Baruch leading the way and Nachum bringing up the rear, the two guards were always on hand when help was needed. They toiled to the top. The chorus of jackals yapping from the surrounding desert reminded the climbers that danger threatened those who allowed themselves to become weak. But the desert lizards that scurried between their feet gave them the comforting feeling that nature was playing friendly pranks on them.
At the point where the path suddenly rose at an increased angle, Baruch insisted that the ropes be used to insure safety. They went up hand over hand, until finally the watchman at the top, who had kept himself informed at all times of the progress of the climbers, came out to assist the little party over the last stretch.
Eager hands helped Ohada over the walls, and she was bundled off to the campfire burning in the center of the compound between the encircling buildings. Quickly the others joined her. Ohada was awed by the tall, fluted Greek columns topped by the scrolls, which she now saw close at hand.
Bowls of hot broth appeared like magic in their hands, and Ohada sipped the liquid gratefully, her eyes feasting meanwhile on the beautiful surroundings, which were in keeping with the Greek pattern that she had first seen when she stood in the wadi below just ten hours before.
A natural simplicity and inherent politeness showed in the behavior of the defenders. There was warmth but no weak sentimentality in the manner in which they were received. Everyone was calm and matter-of-fact. Scarcely a word had been spoken as the newcomers had climbed over the parapet, but the sentry on duty and others afterward searched their faces carefully as though seeking someone from former times.
Were they hoping to find members of their family lost in the disaster that had killed thousands of Jews in the Galilee and in Jerusalem, that had separated families and friends? There were no signs of recognition, but their hosts on Masada did not show their disappointment and turned to the newcomers with tenderness and kindness.
When they had finished eating, the three were taken to one of the buildings where cots had been set up for them. Weary, yet strangely excited and exhilarated, the travelers threw themselves onto their beds of leather stretched over wooden frames. They covered themselves with blankets made of sheep's wool and fell asleep immediately.
(Continues…)
Excerpted from "Masada Will Not Fall Again"
by .
Copyright © 1973 The Jewish Publication Society of America.
Excerpted by permission of UNIVERSITY OF NEBRASKA PRESS.
All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
Excerpts are provided by Dial-A-Book Inc. solely for the personal use of visitors to this web site.
