The Rabbis
tell us that Chanukah recalls a miracle that occurred nearly 2,200 years ago:
On
the 25th of Kislev begin the days of Chanukah, which are eight, during which
lamentation for the dead and fasting are forbidden. For when the Greeks entered
the Temple, they defiled all the oils in it, and when the Hasmonean dynasty
prevailed against and defeated them, they [the Hasmoneans] searched and found
only one cruse of oil which possessed the seal of the High Priest, but which
contained sufficient oil for only one day's lighting; yet a miracle occurred
there and they lit [the lamp] for eight days. The following year these days
were appointed a Festival with the recitation of Hallel and thanksgiving. (BT
Shabbat 21b)
The story
of the Maccabees’ victory
over the army of Antiochus Epiphanies IV of Syria is well-known to school
children. As Rabbi Daniel Gordis of Shalem College
has written, “Hanukah
became a holiday about survival, about the spirit overpowering the sword, about
good overcoming evil, and about the few—if their cause is just—ultimately
vanquishing the many, and the possibility of survival for those who would seem
to have no hope.”
This resonates well with Alan Gross’ release
from five years of imprisonment in Cuba.
Historically,
however, Chanukah emerged from a two-front war. The first front was a war
against the Greeks who denied Jewish distinctiveness and national aspirations.
The second front was a war within: a civil war between Jews who disagreed about
what it meant to be Jewish, and how one ought to be Jewish in the second
century B.C.E. In a sense, neither war has ended.
Torah
promised it would not be this way. Torah asserts that if Israel keeps God’s
covenant, not only will they be showered
with the blessings of fertility, prosperity, peace, health, and security:
וְהָיָה עֵקֶב
תִּשְׁמְעוּן, אֵת
הַמִּשְׁפָּטִים הָאֵלֶּה, וּשְׁמַרְתֶּם וַעֲשִׂיתֶם, אֹתָם--וְשָׁמַר יְהוָה אֱלֹהֶיךָ לְךָ,
אֶת-הַבְּרִית וְאֶת-הַחֶסֶד,
אֲשֶׁר נִשְׁבַּע,
לַאֲבֹתֶיךָ. וַאֲהֵבְךָ, וּבֵרַכְךָ וְהִרְבֶּךָ; וּבֵרַךְ פְּרִי-בִטְנְךָ וּפְרִי-אַדְמָתֶךָ דְּגָנְךָ וְתִירֹשְׁךָ וְיִצְהָרֶךָ,
שְׁגַר-אֲלָפֶיךָ
וְעַשְׁתְּרֹת צֹאנֶךָ, עַל הָאֲדָמָה, אֲשֶׁר-נִשְׁבַּע
לַאֲבֹתֶיךָ לָתֶת לָךְ. בָּרוּךְ תִּהְיֶה,
מִכָּל-הָעַמִּים: לֹא-יִהְיֶה בְךָ
עָקָר וַעֲקָרָה, וּבִבְהֶמְתֶּךָ… וְהֵסִיר יְהוָה מִמְּךָ, כָּל-חֹלִי…;
And
if you do obey these rules and observe them carefully, the Lord your God will
maintain faithfully for you the covenant that He made on oath with your
ancestors: He will favor you and bless you multiple you; He will bless the
issue of your womb and the produce of your soil, your new grain and wine and
oil, the saving of your herd and the lambing of your flock, in the land that He
swore o your ancestors to assign you…The Lord will
ward off from you all sickness… (Deuteronomy 7:12-13, 15)
It is far
too facile and simplistic to say: Well, guess we didn’t keep the
covenant. If we have not kept God’s covenant, how is it that there are
Jews throughout the world 2,500 years after these words were written? And more:
other peoples will take note and recognize the wisdom of Torah. Moses tells the
Israelites:
רְאֵה
לִמַּדְתִּי אֶתְכֶם, חֻקִּים וּמִשְׁפָּטִים, כַּאֲשֶׁר צִוַּנִי, יְהוָה אֱלֹהָי: לַעֲשׂוֹת כֵּן--בְּקֶרֶב הָאָרֶץ,
אֲשֶׁר אַתֶּם בָּאִים
שָׁמָּה לְרִשְׁתָּהּ. ו וּשְׁמַרְתֶּם,
וַעֲשִׂיתֶם--כִּי הִוא חָכְמַתְכֶם
וּבִינַתְכֶם, לְעֵינֵי
הָעַמִּים: אֲשֶׁר יִשְׁמְעוּן, אֵת כָּל-הַחֻקִּים הָאֵלֶּה,
וְאָמְרוּ רַק עַם-חָכָם וְנָבוֹן,
הַגּוֹי הַגָּדוֹל
הַזֶּה. ז כִּי מִי-גוֹי גָּדוֹל, אֲשֶׁר-לוֹ אֱלֹהִים קְרֹבִים אֵלָיו,
כַּיהוָה אֱלֹהֵינוּ,
בְּכָל-קָרְאֵנוּ אֵלָיו. ח וּמִי גּוֹי גָּדוֹל, אֲשֶׁר-לוֹ חֻקִּים
וּמִשְׁפָּטִים צַדִּיקִם, כְּכֹל הַתּוֹרָה הַזֹּאת, אֲשֶׁר אָנֹכִי נֹתֵן לִפְנֵיכֶם הַיּוֹם.
See,
I have imparted to you laws and rules, as the Lord my God has commanded me, for
you to abide by in the land that you are about to enter and occupy. Observe
them faithfully, for that will be proof of your wisdom and discernment to other
peoples, who on hearing of all these laws will say, “Surely,
that great nation is a wise and discerning people.” For
what great nation is there that has a god so close at hand as is the Lord our
God whenever we call upon Him? Or what great nation has laws and rules as
perfect as all this Teaching that I set before you this day? (Deuteronomy
4:5-8)
Is Torah
expressing no more than a remarkable fantasy that if we behave as Jews, each
doing our part to keep God’s
covenant, the nations of the world will see us as a עַם-חָכָם וְנָבוֹן, a wise
and discerning people, and thereby recognize the compassion of God and value
the wisdom of Torah?
Needless
to say, it hasn’t
worked out that way. We do not have peace, either from without, or within.
Many years
ago, Dennis Prager and Dennis Telushkin penned a book entitled Why the Jews?
The Reason for Anti-Semitism. At the time I read it, their thesis sounded
hubristic and self-serving. Prager and Telushkin’s primary two points were: (1) Hatred
of Jews is displaced animosity toward one or more of the three pillars of
Judaism: morality, law, and peoplehood. Judaism (this thinking goes) thrusts
the voice of conscience into the center of the town square, never permitting
people to exalt pagan hedonism, perpetually and adamantly reminding us of our
individual and communal moral responsibilities, and asserting that, as a
people, Israel enjoys a special relationship with God. One finds Jews at the
forefront of virtually every human rights endeavor; and concerns for human
dignity, social justice, and social welfare are paramount in most every (at least
most every liberal) Jewish community. (2) There is a line of causality between
Israel’s election
and anti-Semitism. One might question this thesis in the light of Christianity
and Islam, which also claim to be God’s elect (and with horrific
consequences for those not “chosen”), but a
reasonable response is that the claim of Jewish election so rankled others that
they made the claim that they were elected in place of the Jews. Whatever the
reasons, anti-Semitism continues unabated.
Chanukah
emerged from a two-pronged war. One prong was a civil war. When we take a
reading of our internal barometer, we hardly find harmonious brotherhood
reigning among the communities of Israel. Thanks to the modern electronic
communication at the speed of light we are more aware of one another’s ideas
and beliefs than at any time in history, and perhaps more divided than ever.
Any semblance of respect has all but evaporated in far too many quarters. How
often do people distrust one another’s kashrut or hashgachah?
How often do even liberal rabbis call into question the legitimacy of their
colleagues’ conversions? How often does one group
or another claim to be the bearer of “authentic” Judaism, the true expression of Torah
values, and thereby devalue all other streams of our tradition?
My usual
inclination is to share a commentary I find meaningful, in the hope that you,
too, will find value in it. On this occasion, however, I share a drash that I find potentially problematic. It was
written by the S’fat Emet, Rabbi Yehudah Leib Alter of
Ger (1847-1905), the second Gerer Rebbe, concerning Chanukah. The S’fat
Emet shares a teaching he learned from his grandfather, Yitzhak Meir Alter, the
first Gerer Rebbe, who raised him after he was orphaned at the age of eight.
I have included the Gemara from the Babylonian
Talmud that the S’fat
Emet’s grandfather quoted
in a footnote below, because it is too long and complex to delve into. In the
Gemara, the Sages tell us that only fine quality wicks and oils may be used to
light Shabbat lights, but lesser quality wicks and oils are sufficient for
Chanukah lights. The Talmud’s
reasoning concerns what a person may be inclined to do, as well as what one is
permitted to do, if the flame flickers and goes out because the inferior
quality materials are unable to sustain a strong, steady flame. The Talmud is
talking only of wicks and oils, but the S’fat Emet’s grandfather, invoking an acronym for the word
נפש nefesh (“soul”) equates the
inferior wicks and oils with “inferior” Jews:
Jews that keep shabbat are superior Jews; Jews who do not keep shabbat—“the light skips in
them and [the wicks] are not drawn up”—nonetheless may be inspired to celebrate
Chanukah. The dichotomy between “fine quality” and
“inferior quality” wicks and oils is one thing; to categorize
people in this way is quite another.
The S’fat Emet continues by distinguishing between
the festivals described in Torah, the Shalosh Regalim (Pesach, Shavuot,
and Sukkot), on the one hand, and Chanukah and Purim, which he labels in
contrast “oral Torah,” on the other hand.
These
holidays of Chanukah and Purim belong to the oral Torah. The three festivals
God gave us [Pesach, Shavuot, and Sukkot] are commanded expressly in the
written Torah. God gave us those holy times, sanctified since Creation, for all
was created through the Torah. They עדות bear
witness that the Holy One Blessed be God has chosen Israel and is close to
them, giving them God’s holy testimony מועדות. The
term מועד (“festival”) is related to the language of עדות (“testimony”).
The two tiers of wicks and oils, which parallel
two tiers of Jews, are reflected in two tiers of holidays. The pilgrimage
festivals, because they derive from Scripture, are woven into the fabric of
Creation itself. Chanukah and Purim, in contrast, come about because of “historical”[4] circumstances and
are therefore not holy days[5].
But
Chanukah and Purim are מועדות special
times that Israel merited by their own deeds. These are called oral Torah; they
are עדות witness that Israel chose the Holy One Blessed be God. Israel
are joined to God and their deeds arouse God, for here they are capable of
creating new sacred times by their deeds. And because these holidays are
brought about by Israel’s own deeds, every Jewish soul can be restored through
them. Every single Jew can find a way to belong and attach to them.
Yet Chanukah and Purim have a special
character: The S’fat
Emet tells us that while the pilgrimage festivals reflect God’s reaching out to
Israel, Chanukah and Purim reflect Israel’s reaching out to God. By their courageous
deeds and dedication, Israel sanctified these festivals and aroused God’s love. So far, so
good. I appreciate the acknowledgement of human agency in the divine drama. But
the S’fat Emet says more:
Jews can be “restored” through them. It’s not entirely clear how he means this, but I
suspect that for S’fat
Emet, this means more than that Chanukah and Purim can be access points for
Jews to find meaning in their tradition. Rather, I suspect that he means that
these two historical festivals can be portals for Jews who do not observe as
the Gerer Rebbe does to arrive at the practice of Judaism he knows and affirms.[6]
I am wildly in favor of greater engagement with
Jewish tradition and Jewish learning. But I also prize Jewish diversity as a sign
of our strength and vitality. Walking in ritual lockstep and marching to the
same theological drumbeat will weaken us. We are stronger when our searching
and learning lead us to emergent ideas and diverse understandings of our tradition that we can share with one another. I would like to think that Torah’s promise is real,
if not yet realized. When we keep God’s covenant—not in the fashion of one or another particular
halakhic imam invested with “truth” to the exclusion of all other expressions of
Judaism, but rather because we are all engaged, learning, and seeking meaning—then the wisdom
inherent in Torah will emerge to bless not only us, but others as well. I would
like to think that there are enough good souls in the world ready to receive
wisdom from the many sources God’s Creation provides, for indeed all wisdom
comes from the Source.
© Rabbi
Amy Scheinerman
