Tag Archives: Miracle

The lights of Chanukah – in times of Covid it is important to bring forth the hidden light

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The festival of Chanukah commemorates the regaining of the Jerusalem Temple in 164 BCE, and its rededication, after the occupying Seleucids had defiled it by imposing Hellenic culture and worship over its empire, and prohibiting any other religious worship. 

The story of the successful revolt by a small group of pious Jews against the large military power of its day has a touch of the miraculous, and sure enough, the narratives which are first told in the apocryphal first two Books of Maccabees have evolved in their retelling, embroidered and shaped well beyond the original rather violent events.

The darkest parts of this story of revolutionary struggle, and Jew fighting Jew in bloody civil war – as some embraced the new culture while others resisted fiercely – are glossed and reframed  in the Talmud, which determinedly saw Chanukah as less of a human story of oppression and guerrilla warfare, and more as a demonstration of the divine presence in history. So today we celebrate the miracle of oil staying alight for 8 days rather than one, and we eat foods cooked in oil and play games of chance that refer to the miracle; we give presents each night and generally have fun with friends and family, and we think very little of the origin of the festival being fierce rebellion against assimilation with the dominant power.

The date of Chanukah – 25th Kislev – moves around the calendar a little but is always around Christmas. And the date is not the only similarity. Both are festivals rooted in pagan winter solstice where lighting the surrounding darkness is central. Both use tree symbolism – the Chanukiah is based on the Temple Menorah, which bible describes using botanical terms – clearly a Tree of Life, while Christmas uses evergreens – holly, ivy, fir trees – to proclaim Everlasting Life. Both stories are set in times of oppression – the Seleucid Empire and the Roman one, and both embed hope that human oppression is vanquished by divine activity. Both signal God’s presence in the world and both stories have a mythic quality of redemption.

The mitzvah of lighting the Chanukah candles is to proclaim the miracle – known by its Talmudic name of “pirsumei nissa” (the word paras means to spread or to reveal- in modern Hebrew it is the root of the word pirsommet – advertisement. Nissa is better known to us as “nes” – miracle). So we are supposed to light the Chanukiah in the boundary between our private space and the public space – in a window or by a doorway, in order to “advertise” the story of Chanukah – in particular the miracle, which is above all a story of hope as well as of holiness.

What was the miracle of Chanukah? The story of holding onto an identity when the political climate was determinedly eroding it must surely be part of the extraordinary story, even if that meant a dark time of division in the internal Jewish world.

The story of a small group fighting a much larger power for the right to self-determination must surely also be part of the “miracle” – for we see today so many groups and peoples still fighting for that right, and we see how much energy is expended for often so little reward, something which can destroy even the most committed activist’s well-being.

But I think the biggest miracle of Chanukah is the hope that is expressed when the last oil was set aflame, and no one knew for sure what would happen when it would go out.

This year has been a time of extraordinary darkness for so many of us. While Covid has ravaged the populations of the world, we have also been engaged in division and fuelled by impotent anger. How did this disease come into the world? Who can we blame? What about our fellow citizens not taking the right precautions? Or our Governments imposing lockdowns and apparently removing our freedoms?

We have seen both extraordinary compassion and terrible frustration. Frontline workers giving their all to society, while other people have been much less selfless.

We are tired and frightened and unsure about the future, we have survived the Spring and the Summer but now we face winter and the light is lessening with each passing day.

How much this year do we need the lights of Chanukah? The lights that every day increase and bring us growing hope that we are explicitly told to share with others.

In the story of Creation, everything begins with the creation of Light.   First there was “tohu vavohu” – unformed chaos, and there was darkness. And God said “Let there be light, and there was light, and God saw that the light was good and divided the light from the darkness, calling Light Day, and Darkness night.  That was day one. But the sun and the moon are only created on day four – so what is this primordial light? 

Our mystical tradition suggests that this earliest light is the hidden light, the light that is present even in darkness. We allow it to emerge when we are engaged in God’s will – when we study, do good deeds, make the world a better place.

The story of Chanukah reminds us that there is always light, even when we don’t always see it. It may be hidden in the darkness but it is there. And it is for us to bring it forth into the world, to share it with others, to promote hope and well-being in our world, so that the blessing of God’s face shines on us all.

La festa di  Chanukah ricorda la riconquista del tempio di Gerusalemme nel 164 BCE, e la sua ri-conscrazione, in seguito alla sua occupazione da parte dei Seleucidi, i quali lo avevavo dissacrato imponendo una cultura ellenica e la sua venerazione in ogni angolo del proprio impero, vietando altri culti.

La storia di una rivolta di successo da parte di un piccolo gruppo di pii ebrei contro una delle più grandi potenze militari di allora ha un che di miracoloso, e non a caso, i racconti presenti nei due apocrifi libri dei Maccabei si sono evoluti, trasformati e sono finiti per andare ben oltre quei violenti eventi originariamente descritti.

I dettagli più bui di questa storia fatta di lotta rivoluzionario, in cui gli ebrei combattevano l’uno contro l’altro in una guerra civile sangunaria (alcuni abbracciarono la nuova cultura mentre altri si opposero violentemente) vengono ignorati e riproposti nel Talmud, dove Chanukah viene vista meno come una storia umana di oppressione e guerriglia, e più come una dimostrazione di una storica presenza divina. Di conseguenza, oggi celebriamo il miracolo dell’olio che rimase accesso per otto giorni consecutivi, e mangiamo cibi fritti e giochiamo a giochi basati sul caso che si riferiscono al suddetto miracolo; ogni notte ci scambiamo regali e ci divertiamo in compagnia di amici e parenti, e non pensiamo troppo all’origine di questa festa fatta di feroce ribellione nei confronti di una potenza dominante con un obbiettivo di assimilazione.

La data  di Chanukah – il 25 di  Kislev – tende a spostarsi nel nostro calendario ma avviene sempre intorno al natale. E la data non è l’unica cosa che queste due feste hanno in comune. Entrambe sono feste legate al solstizio d’inverno pagano, dove il dare luce all’oscurità circostante è il punto centrale. Entrambe le feste utilizzano il simbolismo degli alberi- la Chanukiah è basata sulla menorah dell’antico tempio, che nella bibbia viene descritta utilizzando termini botanici-chiaramente un albero della vita, mentre il natale utilizza sempreverdi- agrifogli, edera, pini– per proclamare la vita eterna.Entrambe le storie hanno luogo in tempi di oppressione-l’impero Seleucida e quello Romano, ed entrambe rapparesentano la speranza che l’oppressione umana possa essere sconfitta da un’intervento divino. Entrambe segnalano la presenza di Dio nel mondo ed entrambe le storie hanno una qualità mistica di redenzione.

La mitzvah dell’accendere le candele di Chanukah è proclamare il miracolo– conosciuto nel Talmud come “pirsumei nissa” (la parola “paras” significa rivelare e nel ebraico moderno è la radice della parola pirsommet – annunciazione. Conosciamo meglio il termine Nissa come “nes” – miracolo). Di conseguenza, dobbiamo accendere la Chanukiah in quello spazio tra il nostro spazio privato e quello pubblico-davanti ad una finestra o vicino ad una porta, in modo da “annunciare” la storia di Chanukah – in particolare il miracolo, che è in tutto e per tutto una storia di speranza ed una di sacralità.

Quale fu il miracolo di Chanukah? La storia del rimanere aggrappati alla propria identità in un clima politica che stava tentando di eroderla ne fa sicuramente parte, anche se ciò significava un periodo buio di divisione nel mondo ebraico.

La storia di un piccolo gruppo che ha combattuto contro un potere ben più grande per il diritto dell’autodeterminazione sicuramente fa parte del “miracolo”- e anche oggi vediamo gruppi e popoli che stanno ancora combattendo per quel diritto, e vediamo quanta energia viene spesa rispetto al premio ottenuto, un qualcosa che può distruggere la psiche anche dell’attivista più dedito.

Ma credo che il miracolo di Chanukah sia la speranza espressa quando venne utilizzata l’ultima goccia d’olio e nessuno sapeva per certo cosa sarebbe successo una volta che si fosse estinta la fiamma da essa generata.

Quest’ anno è stato caratterizzato da straordinaria oscurità per molti di noi. Mentre il Covid ha devastato le popolazioni del mondo, ci siamo anche trovati divisi e pieni di rabbia impotente. Come è nata questa malattia? A chi possiamo dare la colpa? Cosa dire dei nostri concittadini che non prendono le dovute precauzioni? Cosa dire dei nostri governi che impongono lockdown, apparentemente limitando le nostre libertà?

Abbiamo assistito sia a straordinaria compassione che terribile frustrazione. Gli operatori in prima linea che hanno dato tutto per la società, mentre altri sono stati meno altruisti.

Siamo stanchi , impauriti ed incerti sul futuro, siamo sopravvisuti alla primavera ed all’estate, ma ora ci troviamo ad affrontare l’inverno e le ore di luce continuano a diminuire giorno per giorno.

Di quanto abbiamo bisogno delle luci di Chanukah quest’anno? Le luci che ogni giorno aumentano e che ci donano speranza e che ci viene detto esplicitamente dobbiamo condividere con gli altri.

Nella storia della genesi, tutto inizia con la creazione della luce. In principio vi fu “tohu vavohu” – caos senza forma, e  vi era oscurità. E Dio disse “Sia la luce, e la luce fu, e Dio vide che la luce era cosa buona e separò la luce dalle tenebre, e fu sera e fu mattina.” Questo fu il primo giorno. Ma il sole e la luna vennero solo creati il quarto giorno-quindi che cos’è questa luce primordiale?

La nostra tradizione mistica ci propone che questa prima luce è una luce nascosta, la luce che è sempre presente anche nelle tenebre. Facciamo si che emerga quando seguiamo il volere di Dio-quando studiamo, compiamo buone azioni e rendiamo il mondo un posto migliore.  

La storia di Chanukah ci ricorda che vi è sempre luce, anche quando non riusciamo a vederla. Sarà anche nascosta nelle tenebre, ma è pur sempre li. Sta a noi portarla nel mondo, condividerla con altri e promuovere speranza e benessere nel nostro mondo, in modo che la benedizione del volto di Dio possa illuminarci tutti.

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Chanukah Miracles

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Chanukah is one of the most historically documented of all the Jewish holidays – we have early sources for it in the books of the Maccabees, and in the works of Josephus. We have accounts in the Talmud and in other rabbinic literature. Every Jew knows the story – that Antiochus Epiphanes forced all the people under his rule to take up Hellenistic practices, that the worship of Greek gods and the sacrifice of unclean animals replaced the traditional worship in the Temple, that Shabbat and circumcision were outlawed. And while some Jews were eager to take on Hellenism, with its pantheon of gods, and its emphasis on the beauty and strength of the human body, others resisted, and died as martyrs.

Then one day the Greeks came to the village of Modi’in and set up an altar there, commanding the Jews to show obedience to Antiochus’ decree.  Mattathias an old priest was so enraged when he saw a Jew about to follow the instructions that he killed him, and then he and his 5 sons retreated to the mountains and began a guerrilla war against the Greeks and their Jewish allies. Before he died Mattathias passed on the leadership to his son Judah, who led the forces against a series of Antiochus’ armies, and defeated them all. When he and his followers liberated Jerusalem and reclaimed the Temple from its defilement, they could only find one small cruse of oil, enough to last just one day, yet when they lit the Temple menorah with it a miracle occurred and the light burned for 8 days.  Since then we celebrate Chanukah in order to remember the Maccabees and their successful fight for religious independence, and we retell the miracle of the oil, we light the chanukiah and we eat foods cooked with oil.

That is the story, everyone knows it, yet strangely enough in none of the many early accounts we have of Chanukah do we find the story quite like this.   

Some accounts focus on the facts of war. Other stories place at their centre the personality of individual members of the Hasmonean family; or the terrible persecution suffered under Antiochus; or the willing assimilation by many which almost wrote the Jews out of history.  Other texts talk about cleansing and rededication of the Temple in order for it to be used for Jewish worship once more. 

Different aspects of the story of the Maccabean rebellion have been highlighted at different times. So the rabbis living in Mishnaic times may have felt obliged to mute the story of a successful revolt by a small number of Jews against a powerful enemy; and those of Talmudic times may well have needed the extra emphasis on the Temple rededication, and the reassurance of the presence of God in the world that the story of the miracle would bring.  The issue of religious martyrdom was important in medieval times when the community was decimated in the crusades – and so on. 

            The festival of Chanukah has continued to develop and we continue to tell the story in our particular way.  Every generation engages with the story, infuses the ritual with contemporary meaning, uses the story and the eight days of candlelighting to express something we feel deeply about. Every generation looks at the story of Chanukah, adding their own light and shadow in order to express that which is important to their time. 

A modern response has been to use the festival as an antidote to external cultural influences, to make it, as it were, the Jewish Christmas, with the giving of presents and the eating of rich (and oily) foods. Sadly Chanukah has become a festival our children know more about than the more core biblical ones of Sukkot and Shavuot.  I have no problem with raising the status of Chanukah to combat the alienation caused by the feeling that the whole world is having a party to which we are not invited (and nor should we be, or we risk devaluing the importance and particularity of Christmas), but it does worry me that Chanukah has become a sort of catch all festivity during the dark winter months, and all meaning is overshadowed by celebration.  For Chanukah does have a message for us, and is not simply a convenient peg to enable us to have our own party, Chanukah is all about – indeed the word has the basic meaning of – dedication and renewal. 

            If we parallel the original story of Chanukah in which people moved away from the core values of Jewish tradition and its place of expression, in favour of the values of a world which did not give a worth to the imperatives of increasing holiness through ethical and righteous behaviour, then this is the time of year we should be rededicating and renewing our own Jewish identity – going, as it were, into the sanctuary of our own souls and taking stock of where we are three months after the last stock take of Yom Kippur. Do we need to refocus, to relight our desire to be better than we are being, to rededicate ourselves to our partnership in the work of God?

            Chanukah, often called “Festival of Lights” is more properly a “Festival of Rights” – celebrating the determined fight of a tiny group of people for the basic human right to religious identity, spiritual autonomy and right to define one’s self.

Mattathias and his sons fought a battle whose principle continues to be fought around the world. And this principle is at the core of the Chanukah story. There continue to be refugees fleeing from their countries – from wars which have nothing to do with them, from persecution over their gender, religion, nationality, sexuality, existence….

            The rabbis asked –  “if there was only enough oil for one day, and it stayed alight for 8 days while new oil was being prepared, it is easy to understand the miracle of the last 7 days, but what was the miracle on the first day?”  

They provide a number of possible answers, but for me the one that resonates is that the miracle of the first day was that people still cared enough and believed enough to light the menorah at all, when they knew that realistically it should go out again within a few hours and they would find themselves in deep darkness again. The miracle of Chanukah isn’t some supernatural extension of the burning properties of oil, but that very ordinary human beings lit the oil in the first place, determined to create light even if only in their own locality, even if only for a short time. It would have been so easy to have not bothered, to have said it would make no difference, to have given up.

Miracles are not really about heavenly interventions or supernatural experiences, but ordinary everyday things which we create and experience every time we choose to dedicate ourselves to the values we say we believe in, when we remind ourselves that we are one human race, when we recognise that what binds us is of more importance than what separates us. Miracles happen when people don’t give in to despair or lethargy, or the belief that they can’t make a difference anyway so they shouldn’t even try.

Chanukah is a festival of dedicating ourselves, of learning about ourselves and what we could be capable of, of reminding ourselves that our actions should match our words. As we light our candles and eat our doughnuts and spin our dreidls, let’s give some thought to how our own lives might provide light – even just a small glow – and make our bit of the world a kinder place.