Dear Friends,
If you look for the word “Chanukah” in the TaNaKh (Bible), you will be looking for a very long time! That’s because the historical events of Chanukah occurred after the TaNaKh was completed. Everything we know about the holiday therefore comes from post-biblical sources: the apocryphal books of Maccabees and the ancient Jewish-Roman historian Josephus are among the earliest. These sources describe the political repressions of a foreign Hellenistic regime and the internal political tensions of a Jewish community divided on how to —or even if to — fight back.
Generations after the Maccabees declared victory, the emerging rabbinic class had to make sense of this minor holiday it had inherited. The Talmud retells the military story with a subtly different framing:
On the twenty-fifth of Kislev, the days of Hanukkah are eight. One may not eulogize or fast. Why? When the Greeks entered the Sanctuary they defiled all the oils there. And when the [Maccabees] overcame them and emerged victorious over them, they searched and found only one cruse of oil that was placed with the seal of the High Priest, undisturbed by the Greeks. And there was sufficient oil there to light the menorah for only one day. A miracle occurred and they lit the menorah from it for eight days. The next year the Sages instituted those days and made them holidays with recitation of Hallel and special thanksgiving in prayer and blessings. (Tractate Shabbat 21b)
According to the Talmud, this miracle explains why we light candles for eight nights.
The Talmud describes another principle:
It is a mitzvah to place the Hanukkah lamp at the entrance to one’s house on the outside, so that all can see it. If one lives upstairs, one places it at the window adjacent to the public domain.
One of the most beautiful times to be in Jerusalem’s old city is during the last few nights of Chanukah, when rows upon rows of oil lamps glimmer outside each home. The light warms the ancient limestone in the most beautiful way. This precept is called pirsum ha’nes — publicizing the miracle. Unlike most other Jewish holidays, which take place in the synagogue or around the family table, Chanukah is supposed to be visible to the outside world. The miracle is meant to be shared.
What is it like to share Judaism in our day? I think most of us would say, it’s complicated! Many of our founding families have described to me that, in the 1970s, the goal was quite the opposite of publicity.
That was reflected in the architecture of the original building: cloistered, inward-focused.
Our beautifully renovated building sends a different message. The expansive glass and inviting design speak to me of Jewish pride. More importantly, this is reflected by the culture of hospitality we strive to cultivate. I simply love this about our congregation, and I hope you do too. In a time of rising bigotry and political strife, I am doubly grateful that these are our values.
To that effect, we will be placing a Chanukah menorah outside of our building this year. Please save the date for Wednesday, December 17th, when we will join together with the broader Jewish community to light the menorah. Our usual bring-your-own menorah and brisket cookoff will take place on Friday, December 19th.
Each Chanukah, We sing the ancient words, " הַ נֵּר וֹת הַ לָּל וּ, אֲ נַ חְ נ וּ מַ דְ לִ י קִ ין עַל הַ נִּ סִּ ים וְ עַל הַ נִּ פְ לָא וֹת וְ עַל הַ תְּ שׁ וּע וֹת וְ עַל הַ מִּ לְ חָ מ וֹת "(HaNeirot HaLalu, anachnu madlikin al haNisim v'al haNiflaot v'al haT'shu'ot v'al haMilchamot). We light these lights for the miracles, for the wonders, for the salvations, and for the struggles—past and present. The miracle is not just that the oil lasted, but that the Jewish spirit persevered. Every flame we kindle is an act of courage.
Even the smallest light has the power to define the entire space around it. As you share your light, remember that you are not just illuminating your own home; you are taking part in a collective, ancient endeavor to push back the shadows and affirm hope. We stand together, multiplying the light until the darkest night shines out like the dawn.
Shalom,
Rabbi Moss
