Hezekiah's Tunnel

The indomitable world super power of Assyria was bearing down on Judah. Having subdued and deported Israel, Judah's sister kingdom in the North, Assyria was now at their doorstep. Hezekiah, the king of Judah had rebelled against Assyria, declaring Judah no longer to be its vassal state. Some scholars believe that this daring and apparently rash decision was a part of Hezekiah's religious reform across the land as he destroyed idols and brought the people back to the Lord. As a vassal of Assyria, Judah would have had to recognize Assyrian deities as well as the One God. Having potentially incurred Assyrian retribution, Hezekiah reinforced the capital city of Jerusalem and home of the Temple by directing water from the Gihon Spring further into the walls to be held in the Pool of Siloam.

In an impressive feat of ancient engineering, two teams of excavators cut their way towards each other through solid cenomanian bedrock. Of all the sites and experiences I was looking forward to, wading through the confined tunnel of Hezekiah rated high on my list. As we made our way to the Gihon Spring to begin our underground journey to the Pool of Siloam, I was so anxious to get to the tunnel that I barely took notice of David's palace beneath us. As we finally reached the entrance to Hezekiah's tunnel, I was startled at how small it was. We descended a very steep flight of steps. The entrance was maybe 4.5 feet tall, though it seemed much shorter. With the rushing water from the spring behind me flowing at a fast clip, I stepped into the tunnel.

The diggers stepped into this tunnel 2,700 years ago. They did so not to experience a small portion of history but to attempt to halt the relentless advance of an invincible enemy from the North. Entire nations had been crushed under the well-trained Assyrian army. It specialized in siege warfare. If Jerusalem was to survive, it ha adto be prepared to last indefinitely. This would require a constant water supply. The Gihon Spring was already protected by the first wall and a large tower, but in a war of attrition, one must have the capacity to fight to the end despite escalating losses. If this first wall fell, the people of Jerusalem would still have access to this life-preserving water, enabling them to survive justa bit longer.

I couldn't feel my feet. Here I am, who knows how many hundreds of miles below the warm light of day, standing in cold, kneehigh water, and I can't feel my feet. But if it's my destiny to die in Jerusalem, so be it. I shake myself from this errant flash of thought. Not sure where that came from. I suppose the occasional minor panic attack is to be expected when traversing barely man-sized tunnel in pitch black with icy water nipping at your knees. Along every inch of of the walls, was can see the pick marks with which Israelite dig teams slowly made their way to their goal: to reach the other dig team and complete the tunnel.

With all the thoughts of digging--pick axes, tunnels, and hard rock, we couldn't help but think of the dwarves in the Hobbit. One song in particular fit the mood of the tunnel and some guys began to sing Misty Mountains in low, eerie tones. As we got to the point in the song where the dwarves lament the fall of their city to the dragon Smaug, I see the desperate situation of the Israelites as they dig. As the dwarven city burned, so also would Jerusalem.

The pines were roaring on the height
The winds were moaning in the night
The fire was red, its flaming spread;
The trees like torches blazed with light

I remember the lamassu, a human-headed winged bull that was displayed in the Oriental Museum at Chicago University. It was part of a relief which was hundreds of yards long on the walls of an Assyrian temple. The current king, Sennacherib's father built this temple. The massive lamassu was a massive beast hewn out of cold, hard stone. The creation of this creature seemed a feat above the capabilities of ancient civilizations, yet there stood this terrifying thing--a testament to the indomitable spirit of an ancient super power with a stolid will to dominate all life. It was then, at the museum, that I realized I respected ancient civilizations and even feared them.

As we walked the tunnel, it became narrow in places and more comfortable in others. The angle of the pick marks on the walls remained pointing in the direction we were heading. Less than half way through the 533 meter tunnel, we found the inscription indicating the spot where the two teams met each other and connected both ends of the tunnel. It was closer to the Gihon Spring because the workers on that side would have had to dig in water and weren't able to dig as much as the other team as a result.

The stronghold of Azekah fell, then Lachish. The last two cities guarding Jerusalem from Sennacherib's forces were no more. 46 cities had fallen to the Assyrians. Jerusalem's demise was to follow in like manner. The Assyrian army lay camped against Jerusalem. Sennacherib sent his field commander to deliver a message. The gods of many nations had failed to protect them when the Assyrians conquered them. Yahweh would be no different.

In anguish, Hezekiah cried out to the Lord. He answered. In the night, the angel of deathsmote 185,000 Assyrian soldiers with death. Sennacherib had no chohice but to withdraw to Assyria. Yahweh protected Jerusalem. As Isaiah had prophesied, the Assyrians would not shoot an arrow or build a siege ramp against the city. God prevailed against the greatest military power of the time and preserved His people. Just as He had promised.

As we exited the tunnel, the Pool of Siloam sat directly in front of us. This pool which was not needed to repel the Assyrians was used in a different manner over 700 years later to wash the eyes of a man born blind. This journey through many time periods and artifacts reminded me how God provides for His people. With a mighty hand, He cast away the Assyrian army and with a light touch healed the blind man. I pray that throughout the rest of our time in Israel, we will continue to see the work of God in the past and the present, leading us to better understand and more fully love the God that we serve.

By Michael Schwind