Chanukah: How Do We Get it So Wrong?

 Here's another surprise from our member Rabbi Steven Ettinger, who asks if we have missed the point of Chanukah completely. 

Since our early childhoods we all have a special fondness for Chanukah. What a joy! Presents – perhaps on all eight days, and maybe even more from grandparents and aunts and uncles and friends – an absolute bonanza. Then there are the latkes and sufganiot. Add on high stakes games of dreidel, parties, and festive meals and we have a holiday quite different from the typical “shul-fest.” Even the sole ritualistic element, lighting the menorah, in many homes where each child regardless of age participates with their own, is not a burden but an expression of love and appreciation.

If we dig deep enough, we can find many reasons, not a single uniform one, for each of these practices; the gift giving and dreidel game, the particular foods and even the many aspects of lighting the menorah itself.  However, unlike on Pesach when our various practices are intended to provoke questions that lead to opportunities to teach – or more importantly, to educate through an experiential process – on Chanukah all we seem to do is indulge ourselves and the children.  What is the source for all these practices?  What is the real story of Chanukah?  What happened?  Why is it so important?

Perhaps one of the issues for us, as adults, regarding Chanukah, is that we still approach it with the eyes of our childhoods. For us it is still the story of the brave Yehudit defying the Greek general and the seven sons of Hannah refusing to bow to Antiochus; of Matityahu calling out “mi la’Hashem e’lai” to rally the Jews to fight the Greeks who had defiled the Temple, and of the Maccabees who led Judah and waged a guerilla war to defeat them with a handful of men. Then, of course, there is the miracle of the one jug of oil lasting eight days. In our minds, this all led to the declaration of the annual holiday that we celebrate with our menorah lighting and all the other wonderful, meaningful and joyous customs.

However, history and reality do not quite match this narrative.

At that time Antiochus IV, the Seleucid king, was enthusiastically welcomed by many Judean Jews. He installed a man named Yeshua (Jason) as Kohen Gadol (in place of his older brother). He incorporated Greek culture into Jerusalem. A more assimilated Jew, named Menelaus, bribed his way into the position and introduced idolatrous practices into the Temple – including sacrificing unclean animals. The first day the mizbe’ach was used for such worship was…. 25 Kislev! It is doubtful that the date is a coincidence.

About two years later, Matityahu, with the family name Hashmonai, instigated a rebellion against NOT the Greeks (Yevanim) but against the assimilated Jews/Hellenizers (Mityavnim). After Matityahu died, his son Yehudah assumed leadership.  Since he was a great warrior, he was given the nickname Makabee, the Aramaic word for hammer. The rebels were never called Maccabees.  That name became attached to these heroes when the two books of the Maccabees were canonized as a part of the Christian Bible!

When the Hashmonaim regained control of Har Habayit and the Temple from the Hellenizers, they were not concerned with the menorah. The mizbe’ach had been defiled.  If you recall, the mizbe’ach is constructed from stones and the mityavnim rendered the current ones unfit. On 25 Kislev, the same day that two years earlier the actions of Menelaus disqualified it, they rebuilt it with new stones. This is the actual Chanukah the “chanukat hamizbe’ach” (rededication of the altar). Once they rebuilt the mizbe’ach, they made a strategic decision. Since the most recent chag for which they had not brought korbanot was Succot/Shmini Atzeret, they decided to celebrate for eight days and to compensate those offerings (this is actually expressly written in II Maccabees 10:5-8, although I hesitate to rely on it as the definitive source. However, I do note that Beit Shammai explained that the order of candle lighting corresponds to the korbanot brought on the eight days of Succot/Shmini Atzeret).

So, have we gotten Chanukah all wrong? In fact, the Rabbis did not institute the mitzvah of lighting the menorah on Chanukah for another two centuries, which was well after the destruction of the Beit Hamikdash.

Fundamentally, as with many other aspects of our religion, the Sages faced a nearly insurmountable challenge: how to provide the foundation and structure for our faith and ritual, to provide hope for future generations and to assure survival and continuity after the destruction of the Temple and the devastation wrought by the Romans. They wove the fabric of today’s Judaism – daily prayer, the written teachings of the oral tradition, the superstructure of Rabbinic ordinances, and holiday rituals such as how to utilize the arbah minim the fifteen aspects of the Pesach seder, and the mitzvah and mystique of Chanukah.

Bringing light into the home and stressing the primacy of traditional Judaism over Hellenism and paganism, during the darkness of exile, was a most important and appropriate symbol. Moreover, by adding an eighth branch to the seven of the traditional Menorah, the Sages were commemorating past glory and foreshadowing future salvation.  The number seven represents the natural, teva. Eight is beyond nature, le’maala min hateva. Thus (i) they needed to highlight a miracle narrative (the one jar) and (ii) they needed to move the focus away from the mizbe’ach and the korbanot and direct it toward the Menorah. As we can see, they succeeded.

Bottom line, we do not get Chanukah wrong. The Rabbis simply wanted us to celebrate a different version: Chanukah 2.0.