Masada - Sharing a Memory with Millions While Feeling So Alone

We went to Masada.  Us and everyone else - everyone goes to Masada. It is consistently one of the top three tourist sights in Israel.  We are a group of 42, but probably 42 of approximately 800,000 individuals who visited Masada during the year 2013.  If so many people visit Masada, then why did I feel so alone on the top of that plateau?

We stood with our tour guide, Otto, at the very sight where so many Jews made the difficult decision to end their lives in order to preserve the integrity of their religion, culture and dignity.  We stood and listened.  We listened to the story - a story complete with history, landmarks, remnants of Jewish life,  evidence of persecution and a story filled with emotion.  A story that as Otto put it:  we were experiencing a memory, not just history.  I truly felt that I was sharing in that memory.

The experience of being at Masada was certainly a shared memory.  We were given details of life on Masada and daily experiences that indeed made us feel as if it was a memory of our own.  As I looked at our group of 42, I began to understand that those that were here before our group were really no different than us.  It could have been us, each of us, living in fear and having to make such a difficult decision.  Our ancient ancestors were no different than us - it could have been us.  As I looked around from person to person - families, children, grandchildren and grandparents - I realized that it was us here so many years ago.  We were no different, except that we were born into a safer time and a safer place.  At least that is what we keep telling ourselves.

I was filled with emotions but I was also filled with the sense of being so alone in my emotions.  While so many people were there on that day, not to mention every day before and after our visit, I was surprised that I felt so alone.  I sensed the spirit of cohesiveness our ancestors must have had and I certainly felt it among our group; but I felt alone in my emotions and I wondered if others did as well.  Maybe the feelings I was experiencing - heart breaking sadness, futility, loss of a people - our people,  and utter despondency - can't be shared.  Perhaps these and other feelings I was unable to identify can only be felt deep within oneself and can't even be explained, let alone expressed.  Perhaps the only way to truly feel what our ancestors felt on Masada was to imagine what each individual must have felt as they came to terms with their decision and that no matter how bonded they were as a group; in the end, they were all alone.

As I stood on the cliffs of Masada overlooking the Roman camps I truly felt the pain of the memories of our ancestors.  I know each and every one of the 800,000 visitors to Masada that year must have felt the same, but I can only imagine that each of them also felt the vast loneliness while standing in their history.