RABBI PHIL

The story of Hanukah begins not with candles but with conflict.  In the middle of the second century BCE, Judea stood under the rule of the Seleucid Greeks, successors of Alexander the Great.  Their king, Antiochus IV Epiphanes, sought to unify his  diverse empire through Hellenistic  culture  and  saw  Jewish  ritual distinctiveness as a threat.  The Temple in Jerusalem was desecrated, its altar rededicated to Aeus, and Jewish life constrained by decrees that banned central practices of the faith.

From  this  dark  moment  emerged  the Maccabean revolt, led by the priest Mattathias and his sons, the most famous being Judah Maccabee.  What began as a local act of defiance in Modi’in grew into a wider struggle for religious freedom, cultural survival, and political independence.  After three years of fighting, the Maccabees captured Jerusalem, purified the Temple, rebuilt the altar, and on the 25^th of Kislev rededicated the sanctuary to the God of Israel. This moment restored not only a physical structure but the spiritual center of the Jewish people.

The word Hanukah means “dedication”.  The Book of Maccabees, kept not in the Hebrew Bible but in the Apocrypha, a collection of Hebrew writings not included in the Tanakh, tells that the people celebrated eight days of hymns, sacrifices, and rejoicing.  It links those eight days not to a miracle of oil but to the missed celebration of Sukkot during the time when the Temple had stood defiled.  In this historical telling, Hanukah was a festival of victory,  renewal,  and  restored  worship,  a national celebration of resilience in the face of imperial power.

Centuries later, the rabbis of the Babylonian Talmud gave the holiday a new spiritual focus. In Tractate Shabbat 21b they asked, “What is Hanukah?” their answer did not recount battles or strategy. Instead, they told of a single cruse of pure oil, enough for one day, that burned for eight. Writing in Babylonia under Sasanian rule, they chose to emphasize divine presence rather than military strength, transforming the holiday into  a  meditation  on  faith,  hope,  and perseverance. The miracle of the oil became a symbol for the ability of a small community to endure far longer than circumstances should allow.

  From that rabbinic retelling came the practice of lighting the hanukkiah, that special nine-branched menorah whose eight lights recall the   days of the miracle told of in the Talmud and  whose ninth, the shamash, serves as helper flame.  The Talmud teaches that the lights should be kindled in increasing number each evening, following the principle of Hillel that holiness should always increase.  The hanukkiah is placed where its light can be seen from the outside, offering a quiet act of public witness that affirms identity and hope amid surrounding   darkness.

  In Israel, Hanukah carries a tone shaped by Jewish sovereignty.  There it is not the lone Jewish light in a month filled with Christmas trees but one festival among many in a public Jewish calendar.  Schools hold ceremonies  recalling the Maccabean revolt as an early struggle for independence.  Soldiers light candles on bases as heirs to that ancient history.  The holiday becomes a celebration of restored self-determination and of Jewish life lived openly in its land.

  In the Diaspora, Hanukah plays a somewhat different role.  it often becomes a symbol of continuity within majority cultures, a gentle declaration of Jewish presence.  The candles stand for remembrance and identity, and the songs and blessings strengthen a sense of belonging to an ancient people.  The same flames that in Israel express confidence in the present become in communities abroad a statement of endurance, a refusal to let memory fade.

  These two aspects are not in conflict.   Together they reveal the range of Jewish experience, from survival to renewal, from persistence and creativity in the diaspora to the flourishing of a people in its homeland. Hanukah’s light reaches across these settings, illuminating both the history that shaped the holiday and the inner life it continues to nourish.

Phil

Rabbi Phil Cohen