What a painful start to Chanukah. We are all devastated at the mass shooting on Sydney’s Jewish community—on men, women and children who were ushering in the holiday with festivities on Bondi Beach, including a public menorah-lighting.
As the rabbi who initiated the public “Festival of Lights” with a giant menorah in Johannesburg in the late 1970s, I am personally affected by this horrific hate crime perpetrated against our people at such an event. Our hearts go out to all the families of the victims, and our prayers are with the injured for complete and speedy recoveries.
The popular impression of the heroes of the Chanukah story—the Maccabees—is that they were a brave band of partisans fighting against the mighty Greek army. Perhaps they were even the historical originators of guerrilla warfare. Their victory over the vastly larger and superior military might of the enemy was entirely miraculous.
Yes, they were fearless fighters and courageous heroes, but they weren’t exactly Navy Seals, Green Berets or the paratroopers of the Israel Defense Forces. They were a small group of untrained priests with not even basic training, taking on an organized and well-equipped army. And they won. This had to be nothing short of miraculous.
That’s why, according to some commentaries, we celebrate eight nights of Chanukah not only because of the miracle of the oil, which lasted a whole week beyond the capacity of the original one jug, but also for the military victory, which was extraordinary and a clear, unconcealed act of heavenly protection.
In many editions of the siddur, in the Al Hanissim prayer recited throughout Chanukah, we thank God “for the miracles, and for the salvation, and for the mighty deeds, and for the victories, and for the battles which you performed for our forefathers in those days at this time.” The “battles,” referring to the military victory, are mentioned explicitly.
Yet not all editions of the prayer book include “the battles.” Why? Because the war was only a means to an end. The end was religious freedom.
The Greek Hellenization campaign had taken a huge toll on the spiritual state of the Jewish community at that time. Many were assimilating into Greek culture. James Michener’s book, The Source, describes how Jewish athletes would perform in the Greek stadiums naked, even displaying the fact that they had “uncircumcised” themselves, quite a painful procedure apparently. Such was the degree of assimilation taking place.
And those Hellenist Jews enjoyed full, democratic rights. They suffered no discrimination. It was only the Jews—steadfast in their faith, refusing to give up their traditions and culture—who were oppressed by the Greeks.
The Greeks worshipped the body, not the soul. And it was the Jewish soul, our Torah values, which they attacked and tried to uproot and eradicate.
That’s why Chanukah is different from Purim, where Haman was attempting to physically annihilate “every single Jewish man, woman and child.” Accordingly, we celebrate Haman’s downfall with physical celebrations: a Purim feast, eating and drinking in merriment. As for the Chanukah story, the enemies’ target was not our bodies, but our souls. And so, our celebrations are more spiritual. Yes, there are latkes and doughnuts, but the main celebrations are kindling the lights of the menorah and reciting Hallel, observances of a more spiritual nature.
The Greeks were not like Hitler or Hamas, who simply wanted to kill Jews, whether religious or not. In the Chanukah plot, Jews who were willing to assimilate into Greek culture and give up their faith could live quite comfortably and enjoy all their physical liberties.
So the Maccabees were not just brave fighters defending their people. They were religious freedom fighters. They led their brethren in insisting on their right to be different and to practice a minority faith. But the main miracle was spiritual, the miracle of the oil that lasted eight days. The military triumph was but a necessary prelude to the spiritual and religious freedom it brought about.
With the horrific terror attack in Sydney, the intifada has officially been globalized. We pray that there will finally be a strong and unequivocal response from the Australian government and, indeed, from leaders around the world. We pray that this is the end of such attacks—and not the beginning.
As we say in the second blessing recited when we kindle the chanukiyah, “Blessed are you, our God and King of the universe, who performed miracles for our forefathers in those days at this season.” We need miracles not only in “those days” of old, but in “this season” of our lives and our people, in Israel and all over the world.
May we all be safe, sound and protected from harm. And, no matter what, may we continue to practice our faith proudly and even defiantly in the face of hate, terror and tyranny.
We need light now more than ever. We must fight the fire of terror with the fire of our faith. May the Chanukah lights continue to burn brightly in Bondi and the world over. Amen.
