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Masada: From Jewish Revolt to Modern Myth
A new account of the famous site and story of the last stand of a group of Jewish rebels who held out against the Roman Empire
Two thousand years ago, 967 Jewish men, women, and children―the last holdouts of the revolt against Rome following the fall of Jerusalem and the destruction of the Second Temple―reportedly took their own lives rather than surrender to the Roman army. This dramatic event, which took place on top of Masada, a barren and windswept mountain overlooking the Dead Sea, spawned a powerful story of Jewish resistance that came to symbolize the embattled modern State of Israel. The first extensive archaeological excavations of Masada began in the 1960s, and today the site draws visitors from around the world. And yet, because the mass suicide was recorded by only one ancient author―the Jewish historian Josephus―some scholars question if the event ever took place.
Jodi Magness, an archaeologist who has excavated at Masada, explains what happened there, how we know it, and how recent developments might change understandings of the story. Incorporating the latest findings, she integrates literary and historical sources to show what life was like for Jews under Roman rule during an era that witnessed the reign of Herod and Jesus’s ministry and death.
Featuring numerous illustrations, this is an engaging exploration of an ancient story that continues to grip the imagination today.
Two thousand years ago, 967 Jewish men, women, and children―the last holdouts of the revolt against Rome following the fall of Jerusalem and the destruction of the Second Temple―reportedly took their own lives rather than surrender to the Roman army. This dramatic event, which took place on top of Masada, a barren and windswept mountain overlooking the Dead Sea, spawned a powerful story of Jewish resistance that came to symbolize the embattled modern State of Israel. The first extensive archaeological excavations of Masada began in the 1960s, and today the site draws visitors from around the world. And yet, because the mass suicide was recorded by only one ancient author―the Jewish historian Josephus―some scholars question if the event ever took place.
Jodi Magness, an archaeologist who has excavated at Masada, explains what happened there, how we know it, and how recent developments might change understandings of the story. Incorporating the latest findings, she integrates literary and historical sources to show what life was like for Jews under Roman rule during an era that witnessed the reign of Herod and Jesus’s ministry and death.
Featuring numerous illustrations, this is an engaging exploration of an ancient story that continues to grip the imagination today.
312 pages, Hardcover
Published May 14, 2019
27 people are currently reading
238 people want to read
About the author
Jodi Magness
29 books24 followersJodi Magness is the Kenan Distinguished Professor for Teaching Excellence in Early Judaism in the Department of Religious Studies at the University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill. She is the author and editor of several books, including Stone and Dung, Oil and Spit: Jewish Daily Life in the Time of Jesus (2011); The Archaeology of the Early Islamic Settlement in Palestine (2003); and The Archaeology of Qumran and the Dead Sea Scrolls (2002).
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Displaying 1 - 23 of 23 reviews
October 1, 2025
Where do I start with this book? At 204 pages before notes, it is a short read.
Imho It was a waste of my time.
I have watched quite a few documentaries on the siege of Masada.
This was an historical event that was influenced by the politics and routine operations of Roman Generals and Legions.
The Romans would deal with rebels, zealots, protests, religious confrontations, or any manner of chaos that might reflect badly on the appointed Roman governors of their provinces.
They are assigned to keep revenue and grain flowing and the locals under control.
They govern with an iron fist.
They want no problems.
As aptly put by the historian Adrian Goldsworthy,
The attitude was, "Rome will deal with you, and you will lose. "
How you are slaughtered depends on the uproar or Roman casualties you cause.
The siege at Masada was recorded by Flavius Josephus. The author of this book claims he was present to some of the events. How many are disputed by some historians. He was a PR mouthpiece for Vespasian.
Jodi Magness is transparent about the potential bias of her sources, particularly Josephus. She reminds readers that ancient historians did not operate with modern standards of objectivity and were often influenced by their political context. (Who they worked for).
What is the point of this reminder? I dont know that things have changed much regarding objectivity. If her sources are biased, then, imho, they are worthless.
She discusses Josephus's biases and his dependence on the Flavians.
The Flavians were a Roman imperial dynasty comprised of emperor's Vespasian, Titus, and Domitian, who ruled from 69 to 96 CE.
The book does give a good description of the Masada fortress built by King Herod the Great.
A miracle of construction built with monstrous cisterns to collect water, storehouses for grains, and all manner of supplies to sustain a long siege.
The Sicarii who occupied and defended Masada are considered in a bad light primarily due to the portrayal of their brutal acts and radical ideology by Flavius Josephus.
His account describes them as terrorists who killed fellow Jews and committed violence for political gain rather than fighting solely against the Roman occupiers.
It is important to note that Josephus' perspective is the main source of information, and some modern historians offer more nuanced views.
The Sicarri were no doubt without mercy on anyone who was collaborating with the Romans. They would have treated them as any traitor. These were brutal times.
One of the events still in question is the mass suicide of the 967 men women and children who were on the Masada and did not want to be captured.
When the Romans finally decided to take down the rebels in Masada, they brought the 10th legion, auxiliary force, and 10,000 Jewish slaves to build a ramp on the western wall.
Day by day, the Jewish resistance saw the ramp being completed. If you are facing crucifixion, mass rape of your women and your children bashed against a wall, it is not a stretch to choose how you want to die.
It is very likely for all the Romans soldiers killed during this siege that extreme prejudice would be approved in meting out punishments. They would not be told to hold back on any rebel captured.
Those Jewish men and young boys held off the 10th Roman Legion equipped with ballista and siege towers as long as they could.
I believe they had the courage to spare their families from the torture of the Roman Soldiers who would show no mercy.
I think it is a matter of time, and more accurate information will emerge as it always does.
Imho It was a waste of my time.
I have watched quite a few documentaries on the siege of Masada.
This was an historical event that was influenced by the politics and routine operations of Roman Generals and Legions.
The Romans would deal with rebels, zealots, protests, religious confrontations, or any manner of chaos that might reflect badly on the appointed Roman governors of their provinces.
They are assigned to keep revenue and grain flowing and the locals under control.
They govern with an iron fist.
They want no problems.
As aptly put by the historian Adrian Goldsworthy,
The attitude was, "Rome will deal with you, and you will lose. "
How you are slaughtered depends on the uproar or Roman casualties you cause.
The siege at Masada was recorded by Flavius Josephus. The author of this book claims he was present to some of the events. How many are disputed by some historians. He was a PR mouthpiece for Vespasian.
Jodi Magness is transparent about the potential bias of her sources, particularly Josephus. She reminds readers that ancient historians did not operate with modern standards of objectivity and were often influenced by their political context. (Who they worked for).
What is the point of this reminder? I dont know that things have changed much regarding objectivity. If her sources are biased, then, imho, they are worthless.
She discusses Josephus's biases and his dependence on the Flavians.
The Flavians were a Roman imperial dynasty comprised of emperor's Vespasian, Titus, and Domitian, who ruled from 69 to 96 CE.
The book does give a good description of the Masada fortress built by King Herod the Great.
A miracle of construction built with monstrous cisterns to collect water, storehouses for grains, and all manner of supplies to sustain a long siege.
The Sicarii who occupied and defended Masada are considered in a bad light primarily due to the portrayal of their brutal acts and radical ideology by Flavius Josephus.
His account describes them as terrorists who killed fellow Jews and committed violence for political gain rather than fighting solely against the Roman occupiers.
It is important to note that Josephus' perspective is the main source of information, and some modern historians offer more nuanced views.
The Sicarri were no doubt without mercy on anyone who was collaborating with the Romans. They would have treated them as any traitor. These were brutal times.
One of the events still in question is the mass suicide of the 967 men women and children who were on the Masada and did not want to be captured.
When the Romans finally decided to take down the rebels in Masada, they brought the 10th legion, auxiliary force, and 10,000 Jewish slaves to build a ramp on the western wall.
Day by day, the Jewish resistance saw the ramp being completed. If you are facing crucifixion, mass rape of your women and your children bashed against a wall, it is not a stretch to choose how you want to die.
It is very likely for all the Romans soldiers killed during this siege that extreme prejudice would be approved in meting out punishments. They would not be told to hold back on any rebel captured.
Those Jewish men and young boys held off the 10th Roman Legion equipped with ballista and siege towers as long as they could.
I believe they had the courage to spare their families from the torture of the Roman Soldiers who would show no mercy.
I think it is a matter of time, and more accurate information will emerge as it always does.
August 29, 2019
I first visited Masada in the summer of 1982, wending my way up its treacherous “Snake Path” to the summit. Since then, I have returned more than a dozen times—though now I ride the cable car. Masada is the second-most visited tourist site in Israel, well worth the long ride from Jerusalem.
The allure of Masada has always been tied to the story the historian Flavius Josephus told about its last Jewish residents. The First Jewish Revolt against Rome began at Caesarea Marittima in A.D. 66 and quickly spread throughout what is today Israel, the West Bank, and the Golan Heights. It was a bloody affair, not only between Jews and Romans but among factions of the Jews themselves.
Members of one of those factions, the Sicarii, seized Masada early in the war. (They were known as Sicarii—from the Latin sicarius, meaning “dagger-man”—because they assassinated appointments in public places using easily concealed daggers.) After Jerusalem fell in A.D. 70, members of the Sicarii led by Eleazar Ben-Yair holed up at Masada. The Romans destroyed similar holdouts at the desert fortresses of Herodium and Machareus, then they turned their attention to Masada, laying siege to it in winter-spring of either 72–73 or 73–74. (The precise date is uncertain.) The outlines of the siege wall, Roman camps, and siege ramp are still visible today.
According to Josephus, the night after Romans breached the casemate wall on Masada’s eastern side, Eleazar Ben-Yair stood before the Sicarii and urged them to kill themselves rather than submit to Roman slavery. Each man would kill his family. Lots would be drawn, determining a handful of men who would kill heads of households. Finally, the last lot would determine who killed those killers before killing himself. “Let our wives thus die dishonored,” Eleazar exhorted, “our children unacquainted with slavery; and when they are gone, let us render a generous service to each other, preserving our liberty.”
Fast forward nineteen centuries to Israel’s War of Independence (1947–1949), and it is easy to see why the Israeli Defense Forces, with the Holocaust behind them and hostile Arab armies around them, began to use “Masada Shall Never Fall Again” as a motto. Indeed, for many decades, new soldiers climbed to the summit via the Snake Path and took an oath to defend Israel. This patriotism was bolstered by Yigael Yadin’s excavation of Masada, which seemed to verify Josephus’ picture.
Today, however, archaeologists and historians take a more critical view of Josephus, the only ancient author to give us information about the siege of the fortress. Jodi Magness’ Masada: From Jewish Revolt to Modern Myth brings readers up to date with this more critical view, explaining how archaeology provides partial confirmation of Josephus’ account, as well as potential rebuttal at key points. Magness is the Kenan Distinguished Professor for Teaching Excellence in Early Judaism in the Department of Religious Studies at the University of North Carolina-Chapel Hill. She codirected excavations of the Roman siege works at Masada in 1995.
Masada is an informative read. I learned new things about the site, and when I return in spring 2020, I plan on taking a closer look at them. Moreover, the book’s historical chapters (5–8), which narrate the history of Jewish conflicts from the Maccabean Revolt to Masada, were a tour de force, making sense of the various people, movements, and events that shaped this period. This is especially true of Herod the Great, that master builder of the ancient near east, including the Temple Mount in Jerusalem and Masada itself. This period is crucial for understanding Masada, of course, but for Christians, it is also crucial for understanding the history and culture of the New Testament period.
As an editor, I was frustrated by the organization of the book. It starts with the siege of Masada (chapter 1), then turns to early archaeological explorations (chapter 2), then moves to the geographical and historical contexts—starting with the Chalcolithic Period! (chapter 3), then describes Herod’s building projects (chapter 4), then gets into the chronological telling of chapters 5–8, then ends with a chapter on Yigael Yadin’s excavations and their aftermath. Because of this organization of chapters, some of the material gets repeated. To be honest, I was losing interest in the book until I got to chapter 5. In my opinion, readers would’ve been better served by a straightforward chronological organization, beginning with the Maccabean Revolt and ending with modern archaeological excavations.
Still, Masada is a worthwhile read. If you’re going to Israel and plan on visiting Masada, you might want to read it beforehand. I recommend reading it in this order: Prologue, chapters 5, 6, 7, 8, and 9. If you don’t have a guide, use Magness’ Epilogue, which lays out a tour of the summit.
Book Reviewed
Jodi Magness, Masada: From Jewish Revolt to Modern Myth (Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, 2019).
P.S. If you liked my review, please click “Helpful” on my Amazon review page.
The allure of Masada has always been tied to the story the historian Flavius Josephus told about its last Jewish residents. The First Jewish Revolt against Rome began at Caesarea Marittima in A.D. 66 and quickly spread throughout what is today Israel, the West Bank, and the Golan Heights. It was a bloody affair, not only between Jews and Romans but among factions of the Jews themselves.
Members of one of those factions, the Sicarii, seized Masada early in the war. (They were known as Sicarii—from the Latin sicarius, meaning “dagger-man”—because they assassinated appointments in public places using easily concealed daggers.) After Jerusalem fell in A.D. 70, members of the Sicarii led by Eleazar Ben-Yair holed up at Masada. The Romans destroyed similar holdouts at the desert fortresses of Herodium and Machareus, then they turned their attention to Masada, laying siege to it in winter-spring of either 72–73 or 73–74. (The precise date is uncertain.) The outlines of the siege wall, Roman camps, and siege ramp are still visible today.
According to Josephus, the night after Romans breached the casemate wall on Masada’s eastern side, Eleazar Ben-Yair stood before the Sicarii and urged them to kill themselves rather than submit to Roman slavery. Each man would kill his family. Lots would be drawn, determining a handful of men who would kill heads of households. Finally, the last lot would determine who killed those killers before killing himself. “Let our wives thus die dishonored,” Eleazar exhorted, “our children unacquainted with slavery; and when they are gone, let us render a generous service to each other, preserving our liberty.”
Fast forward nineteen centuries to Israel’s War of Independence (1947–1949), and it is easy to see why the Israeli Defense Forces, with the Holocaust behind them and hostile Arab armies around them, began to use “Masada Shall Never Fall Again” as a motto. Indeed, for many decades, new soldiers climbed to the summit via the Snake Path and took an oath to defend Israel. This patriotism was bolstered by Yigael Yadin’s excavation of Masada, which seemed to verify Josephus’ picture.
Today, however, archaeologists and historians take a more critical view of Josephus, the only ancient author to give us information about the siege of the fortress. Jodi Magness’ Masada: From Jewish Revolt to Modern Myth brings readers up to date with this more critical view, explaining how archaeology provides partial confirmation of Josephus’ account, as well as potential rebuttal at key points. Magness is the Kenan Distinguished Professor for Teaching Excellence in Early Judaism in the Department of Religious Studies at the University of North Carolina-Chapel Hill. She codirected excavations of the Roman siege works at Masada in 1995.
Masada is an informative read. I learned new things about the site, and when I return in spring 2020, I plan on taking a closer look at them. Moreover, the book’s historical chapters (5–8), which narrate the history of Jewish conflicts from the Maccabean Revolt to Masada, were a tour de force, making sense of the various people, movements, and events that shaped this period. This is especially true of Herod the Great, that master builder of the ancient near east, including the Temple Mount in Jerusalem and Masada itself. This period is crucial for understanding Masada, of course, but for Christians, it is also crucial for understanding the history and culture of the New Testament period.
As an editor, I was frustrated by the organization of the book. It starts with the siege of Masada (chapter 1), then turns to early archaeological explorations (chapter 2), then moves to the geographical and historical contexts—starting with the Chalcolithic Period! (chapter 3), then describes Herod’s building projects (chapter 4), then gets into the chronological telling of chapters 5–8, then ends with a chapter on Yigael Yadin’s excavations and their aftermath. Because of this organization of chapters, some of the material gets repeated. To be honest, I was losing interest in the book until I got to chapter 5. In my opinion, readers would’ve been better served by a straightforward chronological organization, beginning with the Maccabean Revolt and ending with modern archaeological excavations.
Still, Masada is a worthwhile read. If you’re going to Israel and plan on visiting Masada, you might want to read it beforehand. I recommend reading it in this order: Prologue, chapters 5, 6, 7, 8, and 9. If you don’t have a guide, use Magness’ Epilogue, which lays out a tour of the summit.
Book Reviewed
Jodi Magness, Masada: From Jewish Revolt to Modern Myth (Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, 2019).
P.S. If you liked my review, please click “Helpful” on my Amazon review page.
June 26, 2020
Packs a lot of punch in this little book. I will definitely refer back to it on a future trip to Israel. I love Masada, and this book has enriched my past experiences. It was slightly anti-climactic for the great myth reveal (I thought there was going to be more argument, evidence against the suicide rebel myth, but alas, thousands of years makes that difficult, I guess). Definitely a keeper.
November 22, 2020
Last Advent I started reading a book called “Journey of the Magi” by Paul William Roberts, which I impulsively bought a few years ago from the annual book sale hosted by the University of Toronto’s Trinity College. I mainly added it to my pile because it had a blurb of praise from Noam Chomsky. Little did I know that blurb was in reference to one of Roberts’ books on the invasion of Iraq. The “Journey of the Magi” was mostly travel literature documenting Roberts’ travelling through Iran and trying to explore important Zoroastrian sites that he believed were likely related to the Magi of the Christian gospel narratives. As for the religious history he wove into his travel accounts, Roberts turned out to be not one of the most reliable writers, or at least the scholarly speculations he felt so confident about were not as highly esteemed by most other scholars in the field of religious history.
I only got about half way through that book, but a lot of it hinged upon the fringe theories of a scholar named Robert Eisenman, who speculates that Jesus was an Essene – a theory that goes back at least to Renan (although I think I recall seeing it go back even farther). The (so-called ‘revisionist’) communist Kautsky drew on Renan’s work and dedicated an entire section to the Essenes in his book “Foundations of Christianity”, which is understandable because both the Essenes and early Christians held their belongings in common. Either way, the great thing about reading Roberts’ book was learning about these radical groups like the Essenes, Ebionites, Zealots and Sicarii.
Messianic revolts are of deep interest to me. They are one of the primary lenses by which I understand the life of Jesus. The coming time of Advent for me is in many ways an apocalyptic anticipation of the overturning of kingdoms, the unseating of rulers from their thrones, and a future of justice and peace for all. I am of course projecting some values from the Magnificat onto this notion of Messianism, but at the very least in the context of Judea, I understand Messianism as being about resisting the Roman Empire and yearning for the oppression of colonized Jewish people to cease once and for all.
Within the Christian gospels, a key theme is the imperial co-optation of local elites who expend their efforts in curtailing revolutionary foment among the colonized of Judea. Ironically, other ‘New Testament’ writings are very concessionary towards Rome, anti-Semitically blaming ‘the Jews’ for Roman atrocities. My point though is that every imperial power plays the role of power broker, taking extra efforts to install leaders conducive and loyal first and foremost to the interests of empire. As Walter Benjamin so memorably suggested, Empire is also prone to commissioning historians to paint tales in their favour afterward and allowing local elites to take the fall for Empire’s own actions (which is in fact partly the issue that Jodi Magness discusses in this book on Masada regarding how reliable the account of Josephus is, who was very cozy with the Romans; his writings survive due to Christian interest, which Magness makes some interesting comments on). Sartre’s relevant introduction to Fanon’s “Wretched of the Earth”, in reference to Third World decolonization, reads:
“The European élite undertook to manufacture a native élite. They picked out promising adolescents; they branded them, as with a red-hot iron, with the principles of western culture, they stuffed their mouths full with high-sounding phrases, grand glutinous words that stuck to the teeth. After a short stay in the mother country they were sent home, whitewashed. These walking lies had nothing left to say to their brothers; they only echoed. From Paris, from London, from Amsterdam we would utter the words ‘Parthenon! Brotherhood!’ and somewhere in Africa or Asia lips would open ... thenon! ... therhood!’ It was the golden age.
…the mother country is satisfied to keep some feudal rulers in her pay; there, dividing and ruling she has created a native bourgeoisie, sham from beginning to end…”
This is an important perspective to contemplate because the apocalyptic literature of Daniel, which so influenced later Christian writers, was likely written under the Seleucid regime of Antiochus IV Epiphanes, which in many ways provoked the Maccabean Revolt. Magness takes some time to discuss the Maccabees in this book, explaining that the Maccabean Revolt is the narrative behind Hanukkah, which I’ve only been recently learning a little about in the past year or two. But in my reading, the heart of the issue in the Maccabean Revolt was precisely the issue that Sartre identifies in his introduction to Fanon’s great anti-colonial text. It is the co-optation of the ‘native’ by Empire, and the installation of ‘native’ elites to assimilate a colonized people. And so the Hellenization of Jewish elites who Antiochus tried maintain within an orbit of loyalty so as to consolidate control over the region became an affront to the Maccabees. This all came to a head with the ‘desolating sacrilege’ that Daniel refers to (Daniel 9, 11, 12), when Judaism was outlawed, and the Jewish temple was rededicated to Zeus.
This notion of the ‘desolating sacrilege’ is taken up in the Christian gospel narratives, because early Christians (who were mostly Jewish in the earliest stages) perceived local elites in a similar way the Maccabees did, seeing Roman interference at the Jerusalem temple as a colonial incursion.
The destruction of the temple at Jerusalem was the Roman Empire’s response to Jewish revolt. I think so much of Jesus’ life has been sanitized of this revolutionary context, which was a part of a long radical prophetic tradition. The Messiah was to be an anti-colonial and anti-imperialist figure that would overthrow Roman domination. In so much as this did not come to pass during the life of Jesus, but rather ended in brutal Roman crucifixion, the Christian notion of the ‘second coming’ is a re-assertion that such a goal still persists. That ultimately the teleology is towards the end of empire. That is at least how I observe Advent as a Christian.
It is fascinating to read that many Jews after the beginning of the revolt in 66 CE reset their calendar counting years from the start of the revolution. And archaeologists have found evidence that many Jewish rebels continued to count their dates in reference to 66 CE even after the revolt was successfully supressed by Rome. One of the events of the revolt that Magness mentions is the burning down of Agrippa II’s palace mainly because it housed tax and loan records. David Graeber in his history of debt mentioned that this is a common starting point for revolts, writing:
“By the same token, for the last five thousand years, with remarkable regularity, popular insurrections have begun the same way: with the ritual destruction of the debt records—tablets, papyri, ledgers, whatever form they might have taken in any particular time and place. (After that, rebels usually go after the records of landholding and tax assessments.) As the great classicist Moses Finley often liked to say, in the ancient world, all revolutionary movements had a single program: ‘Cancel the debts and redistribute the land.’”
That is why I think it naïve to assume the life of Jesus was not political, but merely a spiritualized campaign to spread personal salvation and to help individuals reach an otherworldly heaven, rather than to participate in heralding the coming of heaven’s justice and peace on earth, as the prophets were constantly going on about. When Jesus uttered what became known as the Lord’s Prayer, asking God to forgive our debts as we forgive our debtors, he was talking about a radical levelling practice of economic justice – the debt cancellation of the Torah's Jubilee – something more and more unthinkable under capitalist norms. Can one imagine how radical it would be for the IMF of World Bank to simply cancel Third World debt, or banks to cancel the mortgages of poor people every fifty years. When Jesus quoted Isaiah as his mission statement, speaking of setting captives free, this was not simply about personal sin and salvation. It was about radical political justice and the end of imperial subjugation.
Many subversive Jews carried out protests in great humour calling out the Roman governor Florus who expropriated money from the Jerusalem temple. They mockingly gathered together and passed a basket around to put together some alms for the governor who was evidently just a poor fellow in need, having expropriated funds from the temple. This infuriated Florus who massacred some of the citizens. You can understand when mocking protest is met with such brutal violence, more radical actions are inevitably forthcoming.
When Magness describes Sicarii raiding the homes of wealthy people, I am reminded of Marxist-Leninist and Maoist groups who engaged in similar activities to raise funds and survive, while trying to send a message to the ruling class. I think the Black Panthers in the U.S. or Shining Path in Peru have engaged or have been accused in similar tactics (though they are each very different groups). The tradition embodied during the Jewish Revolt is not so far removed from contemporary contexts.
I think Magness portrays a very fascinating examination between the archaeologist Yigael Yadin’s use of ‘zealots’ in place of Sicarii and the way that aligned with certain political convictions he had. Magness writes:
"Amnon Ben-Tor, a senior Israeli archaeologist who was a graduate student was an area supervisor on Yadin's excavations at Masada, connects Yadin's choice of terms with his aversion to a Jewish political group called Brit Habiryonim (the Strongmen Alliance), which was active in Palestine in the 1930s and 1940s. members of this group considered themselves the successors of the sicarii and believed that the killing of Jews who collaborated with the British was justified--a position diametrically opposed to that of the Haganah, with which Yadin was affiliated..."
I’m always fascinated by the way contemporary politics colours the way we interpret and read historical politics, which I think is in many ways inevitable. One does see some parallels with British imperialism and Roman imperialism, and the complex ways they intersect with local political contestations. It’s also an insight to red-brown alliances. The Brit Habiryonim was actually a fascist organization that murdered fellow Jews that collaborated with the British. Some of its seminal figures saw themselves as anti-imperialist freedom fighters and their anti-communism came from a sense that fascism was not intrinsically anti-Semitic but communism was. I have so little knowledge of Zionist history and it’s something I need to read more about.
I recently listened to a mini-series that CBC Radio did on the FLQ (a separatist Marxist-Leninist organization in Quebec), the October Crisis and the FLQ kidnapping of a British diplomat and the Quebec Deputy Premier (who ended up dead). I’ve been thinking of the parallels between those FLQ stories and the story of Operation Entebbe that Magness mentions in her account as a student of Yadin. I looked up the incident and it involved the Marxist-Leninist organization the Popular Front for the Liberation of Palestine – External Operations (PFLP-EO) that involved the hijacking of an Air France plane, which was diverted into Uganda, taking the passengers as hostages. Israeli military forces successfully rescued them, and Magness describes that euphoria she felt upon hearing the news. She recalls seeing Yadin smile that day, something she had not seen him do at any other time. Yadin certainly had certain perspectives on such radical tactics, and I wonder if that ever coloured his studies of Masada.
I think there is a common presumption that this type of extreme terrorism is intrinsic to Marxist-Leninist ideology, but I actually don’t think that’s necessarily true, at least not as a blanket statement. I agree with Paulo Freire who interprets proletarian violence often deriving from the violence of the ruling class – that is it is better understood as a response, something reciprocated out of desperation. That does not make it necessarily right or morally justifiable, but I think that’s an important framing. For example, Marx was very critical of Fenian terrorism. I recall reading about these Irish republican radicals active in what was then referred to as Upper Canada, and a number of residents of Mississauga during that time were deployed in militias to fight against Fenian incursions. Marx avoided openly criticizing the Fenians in public, but within internal debates in radical circles, he considered Fenian bombings as irrational, senseless and counterproductive. I think many socialists (e.g. in Cuba) perceived FLQ actions that way (though Cuba still accepted FLQ members as asylum seekers), and I recall in the CBC mini-series on the FLQ, one of the members coming to realize the kidnappings were ultimately a mistake and spoke of them with regret.
Returning back to Magness’ mention of the Air France plane hijacking, I think the story reflects how radical politics is something that is still very much with us, as is the context of imperialism and complex geopolitics. Magness describes how the onset of 1980s neoliberalism eventually eroded the aura of Masada. By the end of that decade she writes that the IDF no longer held induction ceremonies at Masada as “Israel was transitioning from the collective socialist ideal of its Zionist founders to a free market, capitalist society.”
Again, I do not know enough about Zionism, Palestinian liberation movements, and European interventions in the Levant to comment on this aspect of the book. I am however contemplating the descriptions Magness makes of the Roman siege of Masada, the intricate military endeavours the Roman Empire set out on in order to crush radical Jewish revolutionaries, and also thinking about how current hegemons of the 21st century continue that tradition of suppression, and push desperate people towards extreme, sometimes violent, acts. I think Advent for me as a Christian is a time to think through the radical life many Jews, including Jesus, led regarding resisting imperial oppression, while also calling for a radical levelling of society – the cancellation of debts, unseating religious and political authorities, and sharing goods in common with our communities (distributing to each according to their need as is described in the book of Acts). I am reminded of the militant Jewish history from which Christianity is derived, and how its legacy has been used for both reactionary and revolutionary ends. A lot to think about as this season of Advent approaches for me, and I think many things about Masada will be floating around in my head. I certainly won’t be seeing the nativity manger in the same light this year.
I only got about half way through that book, but a lot of it hinged upon the fringe theories of a scholar named Robert Eisenman, who speculates that Jesus was an Essene – a theory that goes back at least to Renan (although I think I recall seeing it go back even farther). The (so-called ‘revisionist’) communist Kautsky drew on Renan’s work and dedicated an entire section to the Essenes in his book “Foundations of Christianity”, which is understandable because both the Essenes and early Christians held their belongings in common. Either way, the great thing about reading Roberts’ book was learning about these radical groups like the Essenes, Ebionites, Zealots and Sicarii.
Messianic revolts are of deep interest to me. They are one of the primary lenses by which I understand the life of Jesus. The coming time of Advent for me is in many ways an apocalyptic anticipation of the overturning of kingdoms, the unseating of rulers from their thrones, and a future of justice and peace for all. I am of course projecting some values from the Magnificat onto this notion of Messianism, but at the very least in the context of Judea, I understand Messianism as being about resisting the Roman Empire and yearning for the oppression of colonized Jewish people to cease once and for all.
Within the Christian gospels, a key theme is the imperial co-optation of local elites who expend their efforts in curtailing revolutionary foment among the colonized of Judea. Ironically, other ‘New Testament’ writings are very concessionary towards Rome, anti-Semitically blaming ‘the Jews’ for Roman atrocities. My point though is that every imperial power plays the role of power broker, taking extra efforts to install leaders conducive and loyal first and foremost to the interests of empire. As Walter Benjamin so memorably suggested, Empire is also prone to commissioning historians to paint tales in their favour afterward and allowing local elites to take the fall for Empire’s own actions (which is in fact partly the issue that Jodi Magness discusses in this book on Masada regarding how reliable the account of Josephus is, who was very cozy with the Romans; his writings survive due to Christian interest, which Magness makes some interesting comments on). Sartre’s relevant introduction to Fanon’s “Wretched of the Earth”, in reference to Third World decolonization, reads:
“The European élite undertook to manufacture a native élite. They picked out promising adolescents; they branded them, as with a red-hot iron, with the principles of western culture, they stuffed their mouths full with high-sounding phrases, grand glutinous words that stuck to the teeth. After a short stay in the mother country they were sent home, whitewashed. These walking lies had nothing left to say to their brothers; they only echoed. From Paris, from London, from Amsterdam we would utter the words ‘Parthenon! Brotherhood!’ and somewhere in Africa or Asia lips would open ... thenon! ... therhood!’ It was the golden age.
…the mother country is satisfied to keep some feudal rulers in her pay; there, dividing and ruling she has created a native bourgeoisie, sham from beginning to end…”
This is an important perspective to contemplate because the apocalyptic literature of Daniel, which so influenced later Christian writers, was likely written under the Seleucid regime of Antiochus IV Epiphanes, which in many ways provoked the Maccabean Revolt. Magness takes some time to discuss the Maccabees in this book, explaining that the Maccabean Revolt is the narrative behind Hanukkah, which I’ve only been recently learning a little about in the past year or two. But in my reading, the heart of the issue in the Maccabean Revolt was precisely the issue that Sartre identifies in his introduction to Fanon’s great anti-colonial text. It is the co-optation of the ‘native’ by Empire, and the installation of ‘native’ elites to assimilate a colonized people. And so the Hellenization of Jewish elites who Antiochus tried maintain within an orbit of loyalty so as to consolidate control over the region became an affront to the Maccabees. This all came to a head with the ‘desolating sacrilege’ that Daniel refers to (Daniel 9, 11, 12), when Judaism was outlawed, and the Jewish temple was rededicated to Zeus.
This notion of the ‘desolating sacrilege’ is taken up in the Christian gospel narratives, because early Christians (who were mostly Jewish in the earliest stages) perceived local elites in a similar way the Maccabees did, seeing Roman interference at the Jerusalem temple as a colonial incursion.
The destruction of the temple at Jerusalem was the Roman Empire’s response to Jewish revolt. I think so much of Jesus’ life has been sanitized of this revolutionary context, which was a part of a long radical prophetic tradition. The Messiah was to be an anti-colonial and anti-imperialist figure that would overthrow Roman domination. In so much as this did not come to pass during the life of Jesus, but rather ended in brutal Roman crucifixion, the Christian notion of the ‘second coming’ is a re-assertion that such a goal still persists. That ultimately the teleology is towards the end of empire. That is at least how I observe Advent as a Christian.
It is fascinating to read that many Jews after the beginning of the revolt in 66 CE reset their calendar counting years from the start of the revolution. And archaeologists have found evidence that many Jewish rebels continued to count their dates in reference to 66 CE even after the revolt was successfully supressed by Rome. One of the events of the revolt that Magness mentions is the burning down of Agrippa II’s palace mainly because it housed tax and loan records. David Graeber in his history of debt mentioned that this is a common starting point for revolts, writing:
“By the same token, for the last five thousand years, with remarkable regularity, popular insurrections have begun the same way: with the ritual destruction of the debt records—tablets, papyri, ledgers, whatever form they might have taken in any particular time and place. (After that, rebels usually go after the records of landholding and tax assessments.) As the great classicist Moses Finley often liked to say, in the ancient world, all revolutionary movements had a single program: ‘Cancel the debts and redistribute the land.’”
That is why I think it naïve to assume the life of Jesus was not political, but merely a spiritualized campaign to spread personal salvation and to help individuals reach an otherworldly heaven, rather than to participate in heralding the coming of heaven’s justice and peace on earth, as the prophets were constantly going on about. When Jesus uttered what became known as the Lord’s Prayer, asking God to forgive our debts as we forgive our debtors, he was talking about a radical levelling practice of economic justice – the debt cancellation of the Torah's Jubilee – something more and more unthinkable under capitalist norms. Can one imagine how radical it would be for the IMF of World Bank to simply cancel Third World debt, or banks to cancel the mortgages of poor people every fifty years. When Jesus quoted Isaiah as his mission statement, speaking of setting captives free, this was not simply about personal sin and salvation. It was about radical political justice and the end of imperial subjugation.
Many subversive Jews carried out protests in great humour calling out the Roman governor Florus who expropriated money from the Jerusalem temple. They mockingly gathered together and passed a basket around to put together some alms for the governor who was evidently just a poor fellow in need, having expropriated funds from the temple. This infuriated Florus who massacred some of the citizens. You can understand when mocking protest is met with such brutal violence, more radical actions are inevitably forthcoming.
When Magness describes Sicarii raiding the homes of wealthy people, I am reminded of Marxist-Leninist and Maoist groups who engaged in similar activities to raise funds and survive, while trying to send a message to the ruling class. I think the Black Panthers in the U.S. or Shining Path in Peru have engaged or have been accused in similar tactics (though they are each very different groups). The tradition embodied during the Jewish Revolt is not so far removed from contemporary contexts.
I think Magness portrays a very fascinating examination between the archaeologist Yigael Yadin’s use of ‘zealots’ in place of Sicarii and the way that aligned with certain political convictions he had. Magness writes:
"Amnon Ben-Tor, a senior Israeli archaeologist who was a graduate student was an area supervisor on Yadin's excavations at Masada, connects Yadin's choice of terms with his aversion to a Jewish political group called Brit Habiryonim (the Strongmen Alliance), which was active in Palestine in the 1930s and 1940s. members of this group considered themselves the successors of the sicarii and believed that the killing of Jews who collaborated with the British was justified--a position diametrically opposed to that of the Haganah, with which Yadin was affiliated..."
I’m always fascinated by the way contemporary politics colours the way we interpret and read historical politics, which I think is in many ways inevitable. One does see some parallels with British imperialism and Roman imperialism, and the complex ways they intersect with local political contestations. It’s also an insight to red-brown alliances. The Brit Habiryonim was actually a fascist organization that murdered fellow Jews that collaborated with the British. Some of its seminal figures saw themselves as anti-imperialist freedom fighters and their anti-communism came from a sense that fascism was not intrinsically anti-Semitic but communism was. I have so little knowledge of Zionist history and it’s something I need to read more about.
I recently listened to a mini-series that CBC Radio did on the FLQ (a separatist Marxist-Leninist organization in Quebec), the October Crisis and the FLQ kidnapping of a British diplomat and the Quebec Deputy Premier (who ended up dead). I’ve been thinking of the parallels between those FLQ stories and the story of Operation Entebbe that Magness mentions in her account as a student of Yadin. I looked up the incident and it involved the Marxist-Leninist organization the Popular Front for the Liberation of Palestine – External Operations (PFLP-EO) that involved the hijacking of an Air France plane, which was diverted into Uganda, taking the passengers as hostages. Israeli military forces successfully rescued them, and Magness describes that euphoria she felt upon hearing the news. She recalls seeing Yadin smile that day, something she had not seen him do at any other time. Yadin certainly had certain perspectives on such radical tactics, and I wonder if that ever coloured his studies of Masada.
I think there is a common presumption that this type of extreme terrorism is intrinsic to Marxist-Leninist ideology, but I actually don’t think that’s necessarily true, at least not as a blanket statement. I agree with Paulo Freire who interprets proletarian violence often deriving from the violence of the ruling class – that is it is better understood as a response, something reciprocated out of desperation. That does not make it necessarily right or morally justifiable, but I think that’s an important framing. For example, Marx was very critical of Fenian terrorism. I recall reading about these Irish republican radicals active in what was then referred to as Upper Canada, and a number of residents of Mississauga during that time were deployed in militias to fight against Fenian incursions. Marx avoided openly criticizing the Fenians in public, but within internal debates in radical circles, he considered Fenian bombings as irrational, senseless and counterproductive. I think many socialists (e.g. in Cuba) perceived FLQ actions that way (though Cuba still accepted FLQ members as asylum seekers), and I recall in the CBC mini-series on the FLQ, one of the members coming to realize the kidnappings were ultimately a mistake and spoke of them with regret.
Returning back to Magness’ mention of the Air France plane hijacking, I think the story reflects how radical politics is something that is still very much with us, as is the context of imperialism and complex geopolitics. Magness describes how the onset of 1980s neoliberalism eventually eroded the aura of Masada. By the end of that decade she writes that the IDF no longer held induction ceremonies at Masada as “Israel was transitioning from the collective socialist ideal of its Zionist founders to a free market, capitalist society.”
Again, I do not know enough about Zionism, Palestinian liberation movements, and European interventions in the Levant to comment on this aspect of the book. I am however contemplating the descriptions Magness makes of the Roman siege of Masada, the intricate military endeavours the Roman Empire set out on in order to crush radical Jewish revolutionaries, and also thinking about how current hegemons of the 21st century continue that tradition of suppression, and push desperate people towards extreme, sometimes violent, acts. I think Advent for me as a Christian is a time to think through the radical life many Jews, including Jesus, led regarding resisting imperial oppression, while also calling for a radical levelling of society – the cancellation of debts, unseating religious and political authorities, and sharing goods in common with our communities (distributing to each according to their need as is described in the book of Acts). I am reminded of the militant Jewish history from which Christianity is derived, and how its legacy has been used for both reactionary and revolutionary ends. A lot to think about as this season of Advent approaches for me, and I think many things about Masada will be floating around in my head. I certainly won’t be seeing the nativity manger in the same light this year.
December 30, 2022
I had the opportunity to visit Masada in 1984 - a visit I’ll never forget. This book gave me lots of context on why Masada is famous, the complex history of Greeks, Persians, Jews, and Romans in this still disputed area.
August 16, 2019
I wanted an update on the archaeology of Masada and this was very good. I wish it had more pictures but you can't fault the scholarship. Detailed references at the end.
November 1, 2025
Magness is the expert and does such a great job of offering expert knowledge in a way brings the reader along. Still, I found this to be quite a patchwork rather than a more unified narrative. Would also say that those who are decently acquainted with this era already can give this a pass but that they should consider getting this for their interested family or friends.
February 17, 2025
Picked up during the Princeton sale some time back. I'd been really looking forward to a book on Masada (and specifically the Sicarii, a subject I've included in multiple term papers) for some time, and cracked into this book eagerly.
Ancient history is a difficult thing to read on. There's a balance that's to be found between the excitement of the narrative and the sobering "Do we really know? Are these people really heroes/villains?", and it all depends on the reader's desire. Some people desire to know the truth of the narrative - which in nearly every case in ancient history is 'we don't know', while others desire to live through the narrative, and risk the flames fanning nationalistic temperament when trying to associate those themes with the modern day. I've always like both reading and the idea of living to the narrative until we know otherwise - to let the legacies live larger than life. Give those of us in the modern day tales of heroism, villainy, bravery, and foolishness, as long as there's enough cold water on things we know or believe are untrue to keep people separated from embodying the narrative. In any case, the book was great work from an incredibly informed individual on the subject, but mostly focused on the archeology of the site itself and attempting to prove things true and untrue based on what we can recover from 2000+ year old remains. Which is a few of the fundamentals.
It did cover the First Jewish Revolt well, and numerous historical theological disputes which I found interesting but were over my pay grade in that section of history, but was not only largely, but shockingly absent on the sicarii themselves. Most of the coverage, even then, was to the "We're not conclusively sure about any of the facts" end of things, much to my disappointment.
Fine book, just not what I was looking for on the subject. Would recommend to anyone interested in archeology.
Ancient history is a difficult thing to read on. There's a balance that's to be found between the excitement of the narrative and the sobering "Do we really know? Are these people really heroes/villains?", and it all depends on the reader's desire. Some people desire to know the truth of the narrative - which in nearly every case in ancient history is 'we don't know', while others desire to live through the narrative, and risk the flames fanning nationalistic temperament when trying to associate those themes with the modern day. I've always like both reading and the idea of living to the narrative until we know otherwise - to let the legacies live larger than life. Give those of us in the modern day tales of heroism, villainy, bravery, and foolishness, as long as there's enough cold water on things we know or believe are untrue to keep people separated from embodying the narrative. In any case, the book was great work from an incredibly informed individual on the subject, but mostly focused on the archeology of the site itself and attempting to prove things true and untrue based on what we can recover from 2000+ year old remains. Which is a few of the fundamentals.
It did cover the First Jewish Revolt well, and numerous historical theological disputes which I found interesting but were over my pay grade in that section of history, but was not only largely, but shockingly absent on the sicarii themselves. Most of the coverage, even then, was to the "We're not conclusively sure about any of the facts" end of things, much to my disappointment.
Fine book, just not what I was looking for on the subject. Would recommend to anyone interested in archeology.
March 2, 2023
This is one of those stories I have been wanting to learn more about. Turns out it's one of those that may be easier to talk about than to learn the truth about. There is a lot of information here, but I kinda wish less time had been spent on the narration of Josephus, especially since his accuracy is questioned by much of the historical society. I get he's the only source from the time period, but I think she could have given a lot more information from what she observed during her time(s) at Masada. I was also surprised that she believed in the Jews only having one temple when I have heard of archeological findings that prove there were many more temples doting the land of the Israelites talked about since about 2015.
This entire review has been hidden because of spoilers.
December 27, 2020
Excellent book for the layperson. I was impressed with how she ties everything together: politics history religion and evidence. Also impressive was how she was able to appear neutral with respect to all of those things, including the debates over the suicide myth.
When I was younger I wanted to be an archaeologist, and I even applied to University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill. Funny to think how my life would have been different had I done that.
When I was younger I wanted to be an archaeologist, and I even applied to University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill. Funny to think how my life would have been different had I done that.
September 23, 2021
Quite a bit of interesting history and perspective in this book, but it’s unfortunate the author let her obvious biases seep through. She attacks various historical traditions without supporting evidence, while selectively using questionable texts to support perspectives in line with her desired messaging. She also manages to slip in a little Zionist bashing and a slight hint of anti-Trump sentiment. Almost a great book...
February 25, 2023
More about setting the scene, with many chapters about the surrounding area and the time period, than Masada itself. Brings up the idea that Josephus may have invented the mass suicide and then doesn't really explore it. Overall, disappointing.
March 17, 2023
It’s an interesting history on an intriguing moment in history. I was grateful for the extensive background information throughout. It had its dry moments but that is to be expected from this type of book.
December 27, 2023
An excellent overview of Jewish history from the time of the Hasmoneans to the fall of the Temple, with Masada a locus point of the history. Well sourced and cited, Magness proves her mastery of the subject history, written clearly and directly.
April 3, 2024
An easy read, with plenty of archeological science as well as narrative about those who died atop Masada. Seemed balanced in terms of presenting alternative theories about what happened there. Evaluates the scientific evidence, but ultimately leaves it to the reader to make conclusions.
October 11, 2019
A very interesting read. The first of many of her books I’m certain. 🙃
February 22, 2020
An excellent history of ancient Israel and an excellent summary of the archeology about Masada. Highly recommended.
December 31, 2020
Great book -Want to purchase and add to my library! Author has a clear and engaging style of telling the story/history.
August 7, 2021
"Clarity" is the best word to describe this book. The prose is clear, even with some repetition. The only fault was the photos - some were old, most were hard to discern.
January 7, 2024
I would have preferred less background and a little more discussion about questionable sources, but it is no a bad book.
July 13, 2024
Comprehensive local history around the events. No hyperbole.
October 19, 2021
This was a great read, and it was particularly nice to read about this history from one of the great archaeologists of the site. I really enjoyed the history, the context, and the discussion of the gaps in the history. I really wanted more information on how this story and site have impacted the state's current standing and approach: how it has informed the politics and national identify of Israel would have been really interesting to read. There was plenty about the current use of the site and how the public interact with it, but a little more focus on its role in the culture now would have helped. The archaeology and analysis were great though!
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