Hezekiah’s Miracle: How Water Saved Jerusalem from Siege

In 52 CE, far from the Land of Israel, the Roman Emperor Claudius prepared for what he hoped would be a day of glory. The people of the Abruzzo region in southern Italy gathered by Lake Fucinus, a large lake spanning 140 square kilometers for a massive public celebration.

The day began with a “naumachia,” one of Rome’s most brutal entertainments: a staged naval battle with real blood. Nine thousand war prisoners were forced to fight to the death on ships, half dressed as Greeks and half as Phoenicians, complete with ancient weapons. By the time the lake’s waters were stained red, the crowds had cheered, the emperor had watched with satisfaction, and the “main event” was ready to begin.

For eleven years, 30,000 Roman laborers had worked to dig a nearly six-kilometer tunnel through Mount Salvino, meant to drain Lake Fucinus into the Liris River. Claudius promised that once the lake was gone, fertile farmland would replace it, an engineering achievement that would improve lives and display Rome’s unmatched skill in managing water.

But when the final wall separating the lake from the tunnel was breached, disaster struck. The water surged through with far more force than expected, sending waves crashing toward the assembled crowds. Panic broke out. Even Claudius had to run for his life. And in the end, the stubborn lake remained. Other emperors tried to finish the job, but it wasn’t until the 18th century that the lake was fully drained, and the area became known as the “Campo di Fucino.”

We tell this Roman drama to appreciate how extraordinary King Hezekiah’s success was, many centuries earlier, without modern tools, he completed a water project that not only worked perfectly but also saved Jerusalem.

When Sennacherib, the mighty king of Assyria, marched toward Jerusalem to lay siege, the city faced a dire problem: its main water source, the Gihon Spring, was outside the city walls. In peaceful times, people could fetch water easily. But in war, the Assyrians could block the spring or use it themselves, leaving Jerusalem’s residents to die of thirst.

In a moment of inspired leadership, Hezekiah acted. As the Book of Kings records: “Now the rest of the acts of Hezekiah, and all his power, and how he made the pool and the tunnel, and brought the waters into the city, are they not written in the book of the chronicles of the kings of Judah?”

Hezekiah ordered the construction of a tunnel from the Gihon Spring directly into the City of David. This was no simple ditch. It was carved through solid, dense dolomite rock, 533 meters long, with a slope so slight only about 33 centimeters from one end to the other that even today, with advanced tools, such precision is remarkable.

Inside the tunnel, one of the workers left an inscription on the wall, the famous Siloam Inscription, describing how two teams of diggers started at opposite ends and met in the middle. For centuries the inscription went unnoticed, until two boys stumbled across it in the 19th century.

This engineering achievement was part of Jerusalem’s defense during Sennacherib’s siege. While the enemy surrounded the city, the people inside had fresh water and the besiegers did not. That alone gave Jerusalem a fighting chance. But the ultimate salvation came from above: Hashem sent an angel who struck down the Assyrian army, ending the threat.

Hezekiah’s tunnel was more than a marvel of ancient engineering, it was a partnership of human wisdom and heavenly help. It stands as a reminder that preparation, courage, and trust in Hashem can change the course of history.