Judah and His Brothers

Judah Maccabee stirring the people to battle . . .

I swear, if I hear one more person ask me “Isn’t Chanukah quite early this year?” I’m going to throw a boiling-hot just-out-the-fryer latke at them. The answer is a resounding “NO!” Chanukah always begins on the same date as per the Jewish calendar: the 25th of Kislev. This year, it’s Christmas that’s late, again as per the Jewish calendar. When using the Gregorian (January-December) calendar, Christmas is right on time. Now that we’ve got that calendric tidbit straightened out, let’s spend a bit of time dealing with Chanukah, the “Festival of Lights.” Truth to tell, it is a rather minor Jewish holiday which isn’t anywhere to be found in the Hebrew Bible; instead, it can be found as two books within the Hebrew Apocrypha (the so-called “hidden” or “forbidden” collection of post-Biblical works).

Chanukah also receives short shrift in the Jewish siddur (prayer book). It is relegated to but a single paragraph and - mostly for the purpose of indicating the timing of the festival and mentioning the names of the major players in the event which led to its creation. These “major players,” known collectively as “the Maccabees,” consisted of a family of the Jewish priestly caste (cohanim) led by a father (Mattathias [Matityahu]) and his five sons: (Judah [Y’hudah], John [Yochanan], Simon [She-mohn], Eliezer [Elazar] and Jonathan [Yo-natahn']). In Sunday or Hebrew school, students were taught that the name Maccabee (מכבי/מקבי) is related either to the word makav (Hebrew for “hammer”) or mekabeh (Hebrew for “extinguisher”), either because the Maccabee leader, Judah pounded the enemy into submission like a hammer, or endeavored to snuff out the fire of the Greco-Assyrians, which spread death and desolation throughout the land of Israel. Another, more likely explanation is that Maccabee is an acronym for Mi kamocha ba’eilim Hashem (מי כמוך באילים י׳), namely, “Who is like You among the mighty, O G‑d?” which is found in the Biblical Book of Exodus (15:11)

Many readers will remember a Chanukah song taught to youngsters whose refrain went: “Who can retell the things that befell us, who can count them? In every age, a hero or sage came to our aid.” It became part of a nightly celebration including the lighting of the hanukkiah (mistakenly referred to by most as a menorah; remember, every hanukkiah is a menorah; not every menorah is a hanukkiah). Besides the nightly candelabra lighting (with its accompanying prayers), playing games of chance (as a remembrance of our ancestors gambling with their very survival) and eating either fried potato latkes (for those from a European background) or sufgani’yot (fried sugary donut holes filled with jam for those from a Middle Eastern background) there’s the old story about the “miracle of the oil”; of how a single cruse of oil, which was supposed to last but a single day at the time of the restoration of the Temple in Jerusalem, miraculously burned for a full 8 days.

It’s all very nice; a mythic fiction made for children of all ages which is nonetheless based on gut-wrenching facts . . . facts which ultimately turned heroic icons into humans with oversized feet of clay.

Antiochus Epiphanes (215 BCE- 164 B.C.E.)

Factually, the events which undergird Chanukah go back to the middle-to-late 2nd century B.C.E, a time when the Seleucid Empire took over Jerusalem. The leader of these Greco-Assyrians, Antiochus IV (215-164 B.C.E.) carried the regnal name Epiphanies (Ἐπιφανής), Greek for "G-d made manifest.” As the name implies, he thought himself to be a divine - right up there with other inhabitants of Olympus such as Zeus, Apollo, Ares and perhaps even Dionysus for all we know. History records that he was, above all, a mad, autocratic narcissist. Indeed, behind his back, many of his subjects, employing a sly play on words, gave him the epithet Epimanes (Ἐπιμανή), Greek for “the mad one.” He ruled his empire with an iron fist from 175 B.C.E. until his death in 164 B.C.E. His hatred for the Jews was so strong that his henchmen sacked the Holy Temple in Jerusalem, turning it into a stygian stable. His warriors and guardsmen - likely the first professional army in the world - proscribed any form of religious worship that was not directed at him.

Some Jews became Hellenized and thus found favor with Antiochus; many, many others sought to make war against him as a response to the many cruelties he subjected to the people of Judea. Led by aforementioned Judah and his brothers, Jews from across Judea went to battle, thus becoming the first people in human history to fight not for property, physical resources or anything entirely tangible, but rather for a principle: the right of religious liberty. The odds against them were enormous; a band of farmers, artisans, scholars and religious scholars making war against a vast army of professional soldiers. What they had on their side was a patriotic fervor for their ancestral land, a far greater knowledge for its topography, and fortuitously, a utter lack of knowledge of the rules of warfare. As such, of necessity, they essentially created an early form of “guerrilla warfare,” dropping out of trees, attacking and slaughtering the marching Greco-Assyrian troops; dashing boiling oil on them from above, and leading them into what today would be called "choke-points.” (This was not the first known use of this strategy; it was likely first used in the late 5th century B.C.E. Battle of Thermopylae, when Ancient Greek city-states, led by King Leonidas I of Sparta, went to war against the greatly superior Persian Empire of Xerxes I.)

Eventually, the victorious Jews managed to retake the Temple Mount, cleansed and repaired it for religious worship, and celebrated its restoration on the 25th of the month Kislev in the year 164 B.C.E. Unfortunately, things started going downhill shortly thereafter. Following the re-dedication of The Temple, the supporters of the Maccabees became divided over the question of whether or not to continue fighting. When the revolt began under the leadership of Mattathias and his son Judah, it was seen as a war for religious freedom by ending the oppression of the Seleucids. However, as the Maccabees realized how successful they had been, many wanted to continue the revolt and conquer other lands with Jewish populations or to convert their peoples. This policy exacerbated the divide between the various Jewish groups including the Pharisees, Sadducees and Essenes under later Hasmonean monarchs such as Alexander Jannaeus and those who followed him. Those who sought the continuation of the war were led by Judah Maccabee.

On his death in battle in 160 BCE, Judah Maccabee was succeeded as army commander by his younger brother, Jonathan, who was already the Jewish High Priest. Jonathan made treaties with various foreign states, causing further dissent between those who merely desired religious freedom and those who sought greater power. As successful as they were in battle, the Hasmoneans made rather incompetent and corrupt leaders. They also tended to infuriate the Jewish public because, as members of the priestly caste, they were forbidden to be kings . . . which they utterly ignored. The Jewish state began to falter spiritually, politically and economically.

Eventually - and perhaps not too surprisingly - a civil war broke out in the land of Judah. In order to bolster their chances of continuing to rule, the latter Hasmoneans invited the upstart Romans to assist them maintain their Jewish state. This assistance quickly became a military alliance and within a century, independent Hasmonean rule had begun to evaporate; it became a fait accompli when the Roman general Pompeius (“Pompey the Great”) intervened in the Hasmonean civil war. The Hasmonean dynasty ended in 37 BCE when the Idumean Herod the Great became king of Israel, designated "King of the Jews" by the Roman Senate, thus effectively transforming the Hasmonean Kingdom into the Herodian Kingdom – a client kingdom of Rome. In essence, the Hasmoneans had planted the seeds of their nation’s destruction. Needless to say, this left a bitter, bitter taste in the mouths of future generations.

It’s this final stage - the post Jewish revolt against Antiochus Epiphanes - which Jews remembered for centuries thereafter. And that is largely why Chanukah received little mention in the rabbinic discourses of the Talmud or the Jewish prayer book. It is bitterly ironic that this holiday, which has its roots in a revolution against assimilation and suppression of the Jewish religion, has become the most assimilated, secular holiday on our calendar. Yes, the candles are beautiful; the latkes and sufgani’yot delicious, and the songs and dreidels (the spinning tops we gamble with) are lots of fun. But the true lesson of Chanukah, remains on view for all who wish to look.

To wit, that winning battles or campaigns in the name of freedom - whether it be of a political, religious or economic nature - is, when all is said and done, easier than exercising wise, intelligent, compassionate and far-sighted leadership in times of relative peace and prosperity. Then too, it reminds us that seeking to force others to convert to your religion is the Devil’s own work. After the example set by Judah and his brothers, forced conversion to Judaism was outlawed for all time.

In any event, there was and is a miracle associated with Chanukah. Not the miracle of the single cruse of oil which lasted for eight days, but rather the miracle of a relatively small band defeating a grand army in the name of freedom. (The 8 days, by the way are made up of 1 day for the Temple’s original service of dedication and 7 for the Festival of Succot – the autumn harvest festival - which could not be observed during the war.) The candles should serve to remind us that miracles can be within the realm of possibility only when people work together with clear eyes, willing hearts and pure souls. Goodness knows we are all in need of miracles these days.

Chanukah (no matter how you spell it) isn’t early this year; it’s right on time.

Wishing all our Jewish friends a Chanukah s’maycha, a Happy Chanukah!