After not paying taxes, the Assyrians took siege on the city of Jerusalem. In preparation for protection, Hezekiah built newer defensive walls and this - an underground tunnel. This tunnel enabled the water supply of the city to be protected and kept from their invaders. We got to walk through it - thigh deep in water!
For those that want to know the end of that story - read the Bible! Or know that Hezekiah prayed a lot and consulted his friend Isaiah who promised the people that, although they were camped outside, not an arrow would be thrown. The next day (no one knows why) the Assyrians packed up and left.
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Unless I'm getting my biblical history mixed up, I believe Hezekiah's tunnel was built in response to an impending Assyrian invasion led by Sennacherib (which has got to be one of the coolest names ever, even if he was a BAD guy). In 1815 the English poet Lord Byron wrote a pretty cool poem about the destruction of the Assyrian army as recounted in 2 Kings 18-19. It's entitled (appropriately enough) "The Destruction of Sennacherib". Enjoy.
The Assyrian came down like the wolf on the fold,
And his cohorts were gleaming in purple and gold;
And the sheen of their spears was like stars on the sea,
When the blue wave rolls nightly on deep Galilee.
Like the leaves of the forest when summer is green,
That host with their banners at sunset were seen
Like the leaves of the forest when autumn hath blown,
That host on the morrow lay withered and strown.
For the Angel of Death spread his wings on the blast,
And breathed in the face of the foe as he passed
And the eyes of the sleepers wax'd deadly and chill,
And their hearts but once heaved, and for ever grew still!
And there lay the steed with his nostrils all wide,
But through it there rolled not the breath of his pride
And the foam of his gasping lay white on the turf,
And cold as the spray of the rock-beating surf.
And there lay the rider distorted and pale,
With the dew on his brow and the rust on his mail;
And the tents were all silent, the banners alone,
The lances unlifted, the trumpet unblown.
And the widows of Ashur are loud in their wail,
And the idols are broke in the temple of Baal;
And the might of the Gentile, unsmote by the sword,
Hath melted like snow in the glance of the Lord!
I love that story of Isaiah, Hezekiah, and Sennacherib, especially since Rab-shakeh's argument has some startling similarities to arguments still used today (also compare Korihor's argument in Alma 30).
--Ben Leishman
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