Masada, Near the Dead Sea

A dozen tourists were winding their way along the path that led up the rocky cliffs. Halfway to the top, the guide stopped and started his lecture. He had lost his cell and had been out of touch with the news that day.

“Okay, the place we’re going to is called Masada. It’s the ancient site where Israel made its final defiant stand against the Roman army after the fall of Jerusalem in AD 70. Armed Jewish rebels and their families occupied the fortress at the top of this mountain. The tenth legion of the Roman army chased the rebels, following them to the wilderness here, and laid siege to the fortress. The Roman army eventually built a ramp on the western slope, so they could overtake the stronghold at the top. So Elazar Ben Yair, the Jewish commander in Masada, made a startling suggestion. He gathered the fighters and their families, about nine hundred and sixty men, women, and children, and told them it would be better to die free than to live as Roman slaves. So they made a suicide pact as the Roman soldiers marched toward their stronghold …”

Then the guide stopped. Something had caught his eye. He shielded his eyes from the sun and peered out over the desert below, to Highway 90 that ran alongside the Dead Sea and led to Masada. The tourists turned to see what he was looking at. There, on the highway, was a slow, snaking caravan of cars, bumper to bumper, making their way to the ancient site of Masada. Some cars had already parked near the tour bus in the parking area. Families were getting out, lugging suitcases, food, supplies — and weapons.

One Jewish man, with his wife, son, and daughter, was hiking doubletime up the path and had already caught up to the tour group. Two Uzi machine guns hung from his shoulders. His family followed him with large backpacks and boxes. His young daughter carefully cradled the blue and white flag of Israel.

The man stopped next to the tour group. His face had an immovable resolve to it, hard and flinty, like the face of the cliffs that led to the ruins above them. His eyes met those of the tour guide. They did not need to say aloud what was clear to both of them.

The man with the machine guns spoke to the tourists, “My friends, I suggest that you leave this place as quickly as possible. For your own safety … unless you are prepared — all of you — to die with us.