Opening words: The sun, an errant lover Has wandered off. Only if wooed by me Will it return. The ancient incantations I now recite. I tell the ancient stories Of hope made manifest; deftly prepare the feast; Pack love and tinsel into every gift, Most magical of all, I light a candle– My act of faith, to guide the sun’s return.This is the season of light and dark. It's almost time for the winter solstice, the sun's birthday, when the night is longest just before it begins to give way to the day. When we light candles and oil lamps and we fill our houses with evergreens and sing and burn yule logs. This is the time of Hanukkah and Christmas, the festivals of Sancta Lucia and Posadas, the Hindu time of Divali. The people of the earth are glad and celebrate, each in their own way.
Hanukkah began on Friday. Hanukkah, the Jewish festival of freedom and of light, begins on the 25th of the Hebrew month of Kislev, at the time of the waning of the moon nearest the winter solstice. Dark of the sun, dark of the moon. Broken by the return of light in the form of a miracle from God. He re's the story.
Hanukkah dates back to the struggle of some Jews, led by the Maccabees, against the religious oppression of Antiochus Epiphanes, the Hellenistic Greek king who ruled from what is modern day Syria. Antiochus decreed that all local, non-Hellenistic religions, which included Judaism, must be rooted out. He saw them as a threat to his power. He forbade the specifically Jewish practices of circumcision, kosher food and observing the Sabbath. Some Jews did not mind giving up their religious practices. They did not mind assimilating to the predominant Hellenistic Greek culture. Others, however, could not give up their religious identity and one man, Mattathias, defied the King, who turned the temple in Jerusalem into a place for worshipping a Greek god. So Mattathias and his sons, the most famous being Judas Maccabeus, had to flee to the hills, where a number of others joined them and for three years they waged war against Antiochus. Finally, they won!
That Hanukkah arrives close to the winter solstice is probably more than mere coincidence. Antiochus desecrated the temple on the 25th of the Jewish month of Kislev. Some Jewish scholars suggest that the desecration was not only a destruction of Jewish religion, but a celebration of the birthday of the sun, the solstice time, which would have ocurred around the 25th of Kislev in that year. Antiochus and his army believed that the winter solstice was the birthday of the god, the Unconquerable Sun. Now the Jewish calendar is a lunar one, so the date of Hanukkah, in our solar year, moves around. But perhaps the timing of the Hanukkah celebration symbolizes the victory of the Jewish god over what was thought by Jews to be a false god, Mithra, the Invincible Sun.
After the victory the story continues. "But Judas and his brothers said: 'Now that our enemies have been crushed, let us go up to Jerusalem to cleanse the temple and rededicate it.' So the whole army was assembled and went up to Mount Zion. There they found the temple laid waste, the altar profaned, the gates burnt down, and the courts overgrown like a thicket or wooded hillside, and the priests' rooms in ruin. They tore their garments, wailed loudly, put ashes on their heads, and fell on their faces to the ground. They sounded the ceremonial trumpets, and cried aloud to Heaven.
Then Judas detailed troops to engage the garrison of the citadel while he cleansed the temple. He selected priests without blemish, devoted to the law, and they purified the temple, . . . They took unhewn stones, as the law commands, and built a new altar on the model of the previous one. They rebuilt the temple and restored its interior, and consecrated the temple courts. They renewed the sacred vessels and the lamp-stand, and brought the altar of incense and the table into the temple. They burnt incense on the altar and lit the lamps on the lamp-stand to shine within the temple. . . .
They celebrated the rededication of the altar for eight days." So today Hanukkah is celebrated for eight days, each marked by the lighting of a candle. Since today is the third day of Hanukkah, we will light three candles. The version of the story I just read came from the First Book of Maccabees, which is found in the Apocrypha of the Bible. The word Apocrypha means things that are hidden and in the bible it refers to books that Christians tend to include with the Hebrew Bible, but Jews do not. Thus for Jews, the First Book of Maccabees is not part of the bible. Why? The answer to that is a long story, maybe one we'll explore another time.
Anyway, what about the miracle for which Hanukkah is known--the oil that was enough for only one day but burned for eight days? That piece occurs in the Talmud, a collection of rabbinical teachings and interpretations regarding the Torah, or the first five books of the bible. In the Talmud the rabbis say: "On the twenty-fifth of Kislev (begin) the eight days of Hanukkah, . . . For when the Greeks entered the Temple, they defiled all the oils in it, and when the (Maccabees) prevailed over them and defeated them, they searched and found only one bottle of oil sealed by the High Priest. It contained only enough for one day's lighting. Yet a miracle was brought about with it, and they lit (with that oil) for eight days." And so the miracle became part of the festival.
Now Jews celebrate Hanukkah with food and presents and lighting the menorah. Hanukkah foods fried in oil suggest the oil used to rededicate the temple. When you eat those potato latkes, remember the miracle. Hanukkah gelt, or chocolate coins wrapped in gold are also popular. The dreidel game is played. A dreidel is a top with four Hebrew letters on it: nun, gimmel, hay and shin. They represent the words Nes gadol hayah sham, or A great miracle happened there.
Hanukkah is not a major Jewish festival. It gains much of its importance in this country through its proximity to Christmas and for some serves as an alternative to Christmas. Although a Christian holy day, Christmas is also a cultural holiday and thus at this time of year its symbols dominate everything. That can be hard on Jews, and other non-Christians as well. When I grew up my friends who were Jewish asked me what was wrong with Santa Claus because he wouldn’t come to the house of Jewish children. As my son grew up he wanted to be Jewish so he could get presents eight days in a row. But presents are not the meaning of Hanukkah or Christmas; a concept many of us struggle with, as made clear in this children’s story.
You are invited to a puppet show, said David and Ilana as they bowed to their mother and father. "Once there was a man named Judah M, Ilana began. Through the back of the carton, David waved a finger puppet with a big J on it. Judah lived in a town called Presentville, where everyone spent all year planning their Hanukkah presents. But Judah had a tough job. Every day he went from house to house trying to convince the people of the town that there was more to Hanukkah than presents. First he visited Mrs. Latke. Ilana wiggled a puppet with a hat shaped like a potato pancake. Good morning Mrs. Latke, David said in a deep voice, Nice to see you so oily in the morning. Just wanted to remind you about the miracle of the Hanukkah oil, which burned in the temple for eight days instead of just one. That's why we celebrate Hanukkah for eight days. My kids don't care about this story, Ilana said in Mrs. Latke's grouchy voice. They just want their presents. Judah visited the dreidel twins next, David said. But like Mrs. Latke, they insisted they only had time for presents. Ilana spun two puppets shaped like tops. Judah went to Mr. Gelt's store and Miss Candle's school. Nobody was interested in the Hanukkah story, Ilana continued. Then one day, the king of Presentville ordered that the townspeople could no longer fry latkes, spin dreidels or light Hanukkah candles. And they could only give one present. Everyone gathered in Menorah square. They wondered what to do. We have to stand up for what we believe in, David said in Judah's voice. Now's the time to show what Hanukkah really means. Presents are OK, but I want to remember the miracle of the oil, Ilana said in Mrs. Latke's voice. The townspeople sent letters of protest, David said. When the king realized that the people finally understood the meaning of Hanukkah, he allowed them to celebrate the holiday. The end.” (from Sharing Blessings: Children’s Stories for Exploring the Spirit of the Jewish Holidays)
The message of Hanukkah is a message of miracles. What do you think about miracles? Do you believe in them? Do you think they come from God? Chaim Potok writes of Hanukkah with his family in Europe in 1938, as the Nazis were closing in.
“I remember my father chanting the blessing over the first candle on the first night of the festival. He was short and balding, and he chanted in a thin, intense voice. I stood between him and my mother, gazing at the flame of the first night candle. The flame seemed pitiful against the malignant darkness outside our window. I went to bed and was cold with dread over the horror of the world. The next night two candles were lighted. Again my father chanted the blessing before the lighting and the prayer that follows when the candles are burning: We kindle these lights on account of the miracles, the deliverances, and wonders which thou didst work for our fathers. ... During all eight days of Hanukkah these lights are sacred. We are only to look at them, in order that we may give thanks unto thy name for thy miracles, thy deliverance, and thy wonders. I wanted a miracle. But there were no miracles during that Hanukkah. Where was God? I kept dreaming of burning synagogues. On the eighth and final night of the festival I stood with my parents in front of the burning candles. The darkness mocked the light. I could see my parents glancing at me. My mother sighed. Then my father murmured my name. You want another miracle? he asked wearily. I did not respond. Yes, he said. You want another miracle. He was silent a moment. Then he said in a gentle, urging voice, I also want another miracle. But if it does not come, we will make a human miracle. We will give the world the special gifts of our Jewishness. We will not let the world burn out our souls. The candles glowed feebly against the dark window. Sometimes I think man is a greater miracle maker than God, my father said tiredly, looking at the candles. God does not have to live day after day on this broken planet. Perhaps you will learn to make your own miracles. I will try to teach you how to make human miracles. I lay awake long time that night and did not believe my father could ever teach me that. But now, decades later, I think he taught me well. And I am trying hard to teach it to my own children.” (“Miracles for a Broken Planet” in Celebrating the Jewish Holidays, ed Steven J. Rubin)
Who made that oil burn for eight days? Was it divine interference or might it have been the dedication, commitment and love of those people trying to re-consecrate their temple, trying to rebuild their lives around that which held the most meaning for them? Who is the miracle maker in the Hanukkah story? Who is the miracle maker if not us? And if you don’t believe in miracles, let me phrase my question this way: Who has the power to illumine our world if not us?
The return of the light at this time of year shows us the way. Pay attention. Where are these places of darkness in our lives? Where is the winter in our souls? The darkness for Judas Maccabeus was a temple, a holy place, ruined by the cruelty of another. Perhaps for all of us in this country the winter in our souls is the poverty that exists in the midst of plenty, the wars that seem endless and all that they mean for countless, real human beings, the broken system of health care, the dangerous ways we treat the planet, and so on. My personal winter is a blizzard of blinding snow and I wear a white coat and I cannot be seen. My personal winter is the isolation and cold of no human contact.
Into these places of darkness we must go, with one little candle to light the way. Pay attention. For the miracle, the power, of Hanukkah happens. The candle, which should burn for only a short time, lasts as long as we need it to. As long as our dedication, commitment and love last. As long as we continually try to build our lives according to that which gives them meaning. Pay attention. We walk out into the cold with only one lamp to warm us and yet it gives enough warmth. Maybe you could try it sometime. Push open a door of darkness. Think about something you usually avoid. Remember something you usually forget. Notice something you usually overlook. The light you bring with you will last as long as it needs to. Because Hanukkah didn't just happen once, it occurs over and over again. That’s the miracle and that’s the power. And it is ours to make it so.
Let’s meditate in silence. If you wish, you can be with the darkness and the winter within. Remember though, that the light returns. Hold onto the light as well. Following meditation, we can light candles to symbolize the coming light, both without and within.
Praise the invisible sun burning beyond the white cold sky, giving us light and the chimney’s shadow. Praise god or the gods, the unknown, that which imagined us, which stays our hand, our murderous hand, and gives us still, in the shadow of death, our daily life, and the dream still of goodwill, of peace on earth. Praise flow and change, night and the pulse of day. (Denise Levertov)