Week 2, Masada: Separating Story From Narrative

Jacob Finke is a rising senior at Manual High School in Louisville, Kentucky where he is involved in student government and runs on the track and cross country team. He also holds a leadership role in his region’s BBYO chapter.

Friday morning, we woke up from our brief naps at 1:30 AM and made the trek to the ancient fortress of Masada. All my life, I have been fascinated–from a historical perspective–with the tale of the brave Jews who made their last stands against Roman conquerors some 1900 years ago. The idea of Jewish self-determination and autonomy until the very last moment is something that has fascinated me and has enthralled and motivated the Jewish people for centuries.

However, this quintessential example of Jewish autonomy almost two thousand years before the establishment of an autonomous Jewish state may be completely fabricated. During our tour, we learned that the entire story of Masada was recorded by one man, Josephus Flavius, who was not even at Masada. Moreover, he used the narrative of mass suicide as a last stand to avoid capture at least twice before in his writings. Perhaps even more devastating to the story is the fact that–contrary to what our Hebrew school teachers taught us–the siege of Masada did not last three strong years, but actually only a few short weeks. This means that the story of Jewish defenders holding out for years against a bigger, stronger, and better equipped force is… false. Instead, the Jews managed to survive for a short while, which is still admirable, only not nearly as much.

So the entire story of Masada very well could be completely fabricated. The Jews held out for a few measly weeks, not three strong years before either a) surrendering or b) committing mass suicide. And nobody really knows which option is true. If this cornerstone example of Jewish autonomy is in fact fake, then isn’t the whole Israeli identity called into question? If the basis of an argument is false, doesn’t the whole argument crumble?

Not in this case.

Fellows taking time for individual reflection after an early morning hike up Masada

Because it doesn’t matter whether or not the story itself is true. The story of Masada, the narrative, has become independent of Masada itself. Throughout the course of the Fellowship, we have spent a lot of time discussing narratives; the way certain stories are told. The narrative of the Zionist movement, the narrative of the Israeli-Palestinian conflict, and more. And the way the Israeli nation has chosen to tell the narrative of Masada–from Zionism in the 1800’s to the IDF today–has been as a story of Jewish self-determination.

In the 1880’s, the earliest Zionists were searching for a historical example that would warrant an autonomous Jewish state. They were looking for an example where Jews were in control. Instead of turning to Biblical times, they chose the narrative of Masada in order to push their agenda of an autonomous Jewish state. The Haganah (a precursor to the IDF) used Masada as a battle cry in a similar manner as “Remember the Alamo”. The Haganah used the narrative of Masada to reinforce the idea that Jews would never again allow themselves to be pushed into such a corner as Masada. They used the narrative of Masada to fight (literally) for autonomy. I would argue (mostly based on personal opinion) that for better or worse, that mentality has been passed to the IDF.

So what’s the point? As historians, and Jews, looking back at the narrative of Masada, it is important to separate the story and the narrative. The “story”, in this sense, is what literally happened–or what probably happened. It is very important for us to acknowledge that the story we want to believe–Jewish autonomy and self-determination until the end–probably didn’t happen. However, that does not mean that we cannot believe in the narrative of the romanticized and heroic Jews of Masada. Regardless of the truth, the narrative of Jewish autonomy, self-determination, and patriotism until the very end will not die simply because people believe in it. And if people believe in a narrative long enough, it can become a version of the “story”.

So what do I feel? Knowing both the story and the narrative, which do I subscribe to?

I choose to believe in the narrative (not believe as truth, but believe in as an important story). We hiked up Masada at 4:00 AM Friday morning. On that mountain, regardless of the story, I believed the narrative that upwards of 1,000 Jews gave their lives as a last act of defiance. Rather than give up and compromise their beliefs, those Jews decided to die what they perceived as a moral death in order to leave their beliefs and values pure.

I believe in the narrative because I believe that it is an important narrative for the Jewish people. Which is why, while I was on Masada, I wrote a note, which is now, for all eternity, a part of that fortress. Why? Because I understood which beliefs and values that I would make the ultimate sacrifice for. Because I believe that it is important for the Jewish people, the Jewish faith, and the Jewish state to have an example of the ultimate sacrifice for Jewish beliefs. Because I subscribe to the narrative of Masada, I know what my Masada would be. And I believe that every Jew should know what theirs would be as well.