Today we climbed Masada, Herod’s ancient fortress. I already had a personal connection to Masada, since I had climbed the mountain once before with my socialist Zionist youth movement, Hashomer Hatzair, where we were initiated into staff and, by extension, leaders of the movement. However, visiting Masada as a student of religion was quite a different experience, since I was not looking at the site purely as a young Zionist, but critically, as a scholar. Masada is famous primarily for Josephus’s account of mass suicide on the part of Jewish zealots to avoid Roman enslavement, and is thus a significant symbol of Jewish sovereignty. However, viewing Masada as a scholar would seem to slightly diminish this Jewish legend of strength and determination, since the archaeological finds simply do not correspond with Josephus’s story.
The article we read by Shaye Cohen, “The Credibility of Josephus”, outlines a number of fundamental issues with the Josephus narrative, which has traditionally been regarded as historical. First, Yigael Yadin’s discovery of three skeletons in the palace’s lower terrace, along with twenty-five skeletons on the southern slope of the cliff, would appear to contradict Josephus’s claim that the Romans discovered 960 corpses in the palace. While Yadin sought to account for this discrepancy by suggesting that the twenty-five bodies were tossed “irreverently” by the Romans, Cohen points out that this makes no sense, as the Romans would not have dragged the bodies across a plateau and lower them into a cave; rather, the Romans likely would have taken the corpses out of the palace and flung them out off the nearest edge of the cliff. Cohen contends that these skeletons must be the remains of Jews who either tried to run from the Romans but were discovered, or others who committed suicide. There is no clear answer, but it is clear that Josephus’s account of a unified suicide pact is at best, simplistic, and therefore not a completely reliable historical source.
Another key issue with Josephus’s narrative is the location of the suicides. Josephus implies that the murders all took place in the palace, where Eleazar convinces the people to agree to his plan of mass suicide. However, Cohen alleges that the northern palace is too small for nearly one thousand people to assemble. Additionally, Josephus says that all possessions were gathered together and burned in one large pile, but archaeology has revealed a number of piles and fires around the palace complex. Also, Josephus claims that the last living Jew set fire to the palace, but archaeology indicates that all public buildings were, in fact, set on fire.
Perhaps most important, however, are the details of the battle, which simply do not add up. Specifically, Cohen does not believe Josephus’s claim that the Romans withdrew for the night after the inner wall was breached by fire, in order to attack the next day, as this move would have effectively postponed their eventual victory. Moreover, Josephus writes that Roman soldiers were well positioned to survey both the inside of the fortress as well as the whole of Masada. If this is the case, how could they possibly have missed the large fires, burning the palace (as well as other public buildings), or the screams of the Jews being slaughtered under the guise of martyrdom and self-sacrifice?
Although these are by no means the only discrepancies between the Josephus narrative and the archaeological findings, I think these examples serve to illustrate the lack of clarity when it comes to Masada. The ambiguity of what may have happened highlights Josephus’s unreliability qua narrator, especially since he seems to have borrowed the elements and motifs (most notably of the mass suicide and the drawing of lots) from his own experience at the siege of Jotapata. Also, as he was writing for the Romans, there is always the question of intent. Whereas Josephus does try to glorify the Jewish spirit, as he describes the “courage of their resolution and the immovable contempt of death”, he also appears to discredit the Sicarii zealots, who he did not consider true Jews. Scholars have suggested that this distinction between zealots from the true faith functions as a form of apology for Judaism; though he did not want to anger the Romans for whom he was writing, it seems Josephus also tried to restore some dignity to the history of his fellow Jews. Finally, embellishment and fictitious elements are not uncommon in older historical accounts.
Thus, archaeology ultimately cannot solve the question of historicity. While there are archaeological clues that do corroborate elements of Jospehus’s narrative, others seem to blatantly contradict it. Indeed, as Jodi Magness stated in her lecture at Carleton last October, we can really only evaluate Josephus’s reliability as a historian, since there is no way to properly assess the historical events. Although in his article, Shaye Cohen offers an alternative explanation to Yigael Yadin, his explanation is no more than an educated guess. What has become certain, though, is that we cannot simply accept Josephus’s tale as gospel (or rather, we must critically analyse his text as religious scholars have come to evaluate the Christian gospels).
As a Zionist, I was initially a bit deflated to learn about the controversies of Masada, since Josephus’s story has become so central to Jewish thought. However, upon reflection, I now believe that the reception history of Masada has eclipsed the actual history in terms of significance, as it has reached near-mythic status within the Jewish corpus. As myth, the story is not necessarily subject to historical veracity. While validation of the tale would be ideal, especially since Josephus’s writings are traditionally viewed in the context of history, I think the ways in which the story has shaped and influenced Jewish and Israeli identity are almost more interesting than any historical “truth”. As a symbol of Jewish strength and solidarity, Masada has become central, both within Holocaust and Zionist thought. Indeed, the firm resolve of these Jews who chose to kill themselves in order to retain sovereignty over their lives helped inspire such events as the Warsaw Ghetto Uprising, and functioned as a powerful stimulus for the Zionist dream of Jewish freedom.
While Masada is extremely interesting intellectually, part of the fascination comes from the actual experience of seeing it. The view of the sunrise was amazing, but even more exciting was seeing the remains of Herod’s fortress. In particular, his ingenious solution to the problem of water on the mountain is incredible. We had the chance to actually go into one of the large cisterns where water was stored, and I was blown away, not only by he level of innovation, but also the sheer skill of the architects of Masada, who were able to make a habitable palace in the desert two thousand years ago.