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Good morning!
Hanukkah begins at sundown on Tuesday evening. We all know the story, how the people of Judea had lived peacefully under the tolerant rule of the Hellenistic empires for hundreds of years until the Seleucid or Syrian Greek king Antiochus IV Epiphanes decided that the Hellenistic empires were founded by Hellenists and so all of the people in it ought to worship the Greek gods. Now, he was willing to let them worship their own gods as well, but he insisted that they worship Zeus. In 168 BCE he put a statue of Zeus in the temple in Jerusalem, slaughtered pigs on the altar, and scattered pig’s blood on the walls of the Temple.
This act enraged the people of Judea and so, when a small band of rebels rose up against the Greeks, many of the people were prepared to join them or give them support.
Rebel Jews, under the military leadership of Judas Maccabeus (Judah Maccabee—Judah the Hammer)—hence the name Maccabees for his followers--won an astonishing victory against the Greeks, seized Jerusalem on 25 Kislev 165 BCE, cleansed the Temple and established an independent Judea, which remained independent until conquered by the Romans. In celebration of this victory, the Maccabees established the festival of Hanukkah, which means Dedication and refers to the rededication of the Temple.
In my family, we have our menorah and we use the method of lighting an additional candle each evening so that the light grows stronger and brighter through each of the eight nights.
There is another tradition in which one lights the full menorah on the first night, then removes a candle each evening so that the light wanes with every day that passes.
Remember that the purported miracle of Hanukkah is that when the Maccabees seized the Temple they found one little jar of sacred oil, enough to light the Temple lamps for only one day—but it would take eight days to prepare new oil in the proper way.
The Maccabees lit the lamps and the oil lasted and burned a full eight days until the new oil was ready.
Removing one candle from the menorah each evening can symbolize the imagined experience of the Maccabees watching fearfully, but with growing hope and awe as the oil burns until its final, flickering flame gave out –but not until the full eight days had elapsed.
The Maccabees took an action that was futile—they had enough oil for one day and that was that. But they lit it anyway.
A scientific approach, an accounting approach, a logical approach, a rational approach, would have sniffed at any hope that this act would “pay off”. And yet, it did. Something good happened because the Maccabees took an action that had no hope of achieving its goal.
Of course, the miracle of the oil probably never happened. It is certainly a later legend added for effect—perhaps to spiritualize the victory.
But it ought to be noted that the action of the Maccabees in rising up against the Greeks was itself an act of foolishness and futility. They had no chance of surviving their rebellion, no less of succeeding. They rose up against an overwhelmingly superior military force…and yet, they won. The miracle of their victory, like the miracle of the legend of the oil, is a message of hope to those who are helpless.
The miracle of their victory, like the miracle of the legend of the oil, contains many messages. There is a message of hope even for those who are hopeless. And there is also a message of warning.
I want to speak to the warning, first.
Antiochus IV Epiphanes sought unity for his empire; he sought a sense of community and a singular identity, and he tried to use religion to create that.
His placement of the statue of Zeus in the Temple reminds me of the actions of those who insist on placing monuments of the Ten Commandments in public buildings or who insist on prayer in public school. The attempt to impose one religion, and, indeed, one interpretation of religion, on everyone can succeed, as the Mullahs of Iran have proven. But it can also backfire, as Antiochus learned.
A lesson to every would-be Antiochus is, be careful about imposing your views and your ways on others. And that really is a lesson for all of us; it is a lesson for the Antiochus living in each of our souls. When we are convinced that we are right and that others ought to do what we want them to do, may we pause to question and challenge ourselves. May we ask ourselves whether what we seek expands freedom or imposes tyranny. May we ask ourselves whether what we are doing is an act of righteousness or an act of self-righteousness.
I want to return to the message of hope that Hanukkah represents. When we are in a time of struggle, whether our struggle is a personal one against life circumstances, disease or inner demons, or is a struggle for social justice, Hanukkah is one of many symbols that hope rises up in unforeseen places and in our darkest moments.
The Maccabee uprising was a struggle for both individual freedom and for national freedom. It was a struggle that saw spirituality as an issue that is both personal and social. It says that personal religion cannot be separated from the quest for social justice.
On both a personal and a social level, the message of Hanukkah is: If you believe you are right, then struggle with all your strength to win your goals even though there is no hope of winning. Even though there is no hope of winning.
Frederick Douglas never lived to see the day that segregation ended. African Americans still do not enjoy full equality within our society. They have lower rates of employment; as a group they suffer from less adequate health care and therefore worse health; they are as a group provided with less adequate education; they have lower levels of high school and college graduation; lower pay; lower status jobs and less opportunity all around.
And yet; and yet. Because of people like Frederick Douglas, and W.E.B. Dubois, and Doctor Martin Luther King Jr., African Americans are well on the road to someday achieving real equality. Though it is not yet, the work and words of those people were not in vain. Though they fought an impossible fight against centuries of bigotry and violence and prejudice, because they did, equality is much closer.
Susan B. Anthony never got to vote. Despite decades of working for women’s rights, she never lived to see the day that a woman could walk into a voting booth, cast a ballot, and not be arrested. And yet, her work was not in vain; it helped to create the circumstances that ultimately produced voting rights. That struggle, too, the struggle for full equal rights for women, is not yet won. But it is a whole lot closer than it was, because Susan B. Anthony and others did not give up, even when they stood no chance of success, and even when all of the events of their own lifetimes proved that fact.
There is a message from the Maccabees, both ancient and modern, for other people today who do not yet have equality or whose rights are denied. It is a message for anyone working to change the world and make it better. It is a message for every foolish idealist and dreamer and prophet. The message is: no cause is hopeless. Carry on. Keep working. Keep dreaming. Someday you may see the walls crumble. But even if you don’t, someone will.
On a more personal level, many of us find ourselves with difficulties of one kind or another. Financial worries, illness, depression, children in trouble, loneliness; each and all of these can seem unending and insurmountable. The message of Hanukkah, of light in the midst of darkness, is that hope springs eternal. Do not give in to despair; do not give up; do not stop trying.
The actor Christopher Reeve, a member of our congregation in Westport, Connecticut, was injured in a riding accident, made quadrapalegic, and was told he would never move his arms or legs again.
He refused to accept that judgment. He poured his time, his energy and his financial resources into overcoming his injury. He used muscle massage, muscle exercises, and personal effort. After years of work, he was one day able to move one small finger, just slightly move it up and down.
So? After all those years and all that work and all that money, that is all he was able to accomplish? That means nothing!
Not so! In the single moment of that small flickering movement rose hope, possibility, and promise. In that moment, years of medical truth disappeared.
Christopher Reeve never rose out of his wheel chair and walked, at least, not in this life, but in the moment that he moved his finger he gave the world the proof that someday someone will. He did not live to see it, but we now know it will happen. And it will happen sooner than it would have at least in part because he would not accept the impossible.
One more step, one more futile, empty act, may be enough. But even if nothing changes, the fact that you kept on builds your own dignity, if it does nothing else.
In the struggles of our life, we need not always be sure or confident. Sometimes the struggle is necessary even if doomed to fail; and if we do strive, a miracle may occur.
We need not always be strong. Our strength may wane sometimes. Our hope may not burn brightly in every moment. Our energy may fade and sputter like a dying candle. But the light of our soul need not consume all before it, it need not achieve it ultimate goal; it only needs to flicker long enough for another heart to turn, for another soul to be enflamed by our dim spark. It only needs to last long enough to shine in the eyes of one other person who takes up the task, the cause, the work, the hope.
Whether that task be one of social change and social justice, or one of a more personal nature, of bringing hope to ourselves or love to another, may we find the courage to take one more step, say one more word, do one more act that when miracles are ready, they may flow through us and light the world.
So let it be.
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