Hanukkah tends to pop up in the same month — and, like this year, sometimes even the same week — as Christmas. So it’s not all that surprising that Hanukkah, like Christmas, can get lost in an orgy of gift-buying and gift-giving. In fact, that’s what turned me off to Hanukkah as a kid.
Sure, dreidels are fun, chocolate is great, and what kid doesn’t like to receive gifts? But what was the point? What was the purpose behind it? What, as a young Jew growing up in the huge shadow cast by the Shoah (Holocaust, if you prefer), was the cause for all this joy, this celebrating, these gifts? I was told we were celebrating the Festival of Lights, and, specifically, the miracle that sacred oil to rededicate the desecrated Temple, oil that should only have lasted for one night, lasted for eight.
Not that I wasn’t glad that the oil lasted eight whole nights, but was this really worth all the hoopla? I couldn’t see it. And Hanukkah became an unimportant holiday to me. It wasn’t until I was in my 40s that I rediscovered it.
In the 160s BCE, Antiochus IV of Syria ruled Judah (Judea). His father had ruled it with a light hand. But Antiochus didn’t. The Temple was ransacked and Judaism, as traditionally practiced, was banned. But there was a revolt, and it was successful. In the end, Antiochus pulled out his troops and Judah was free.
This marked the first time in recorded history that a conquered people revolted over the right to pray as they were called. As I pondered that, this seemed to me very much worth celebrating: the right of every person to pray as he or she is called.
The truth of the revolt against Antiochus is more complex than the brief synopsis above. But for me, the essence of Hanukkah, the reason to remember and celebrate it, remains the need to be reminded that the freedom to pray must be guarded and remembered.
Today, Baha’i in Iran know what it is like to be oppressed because of their spiritual path. Buddhists in Tibet know the same oppression. Much too often, so do Muslims in the United States. Indeed, the plague of religious oppression remains worldwide.
On Hanukkah, I light candles not only to celebrate the joy of the Maccabee victory over Antiochus, but also to remember that the battle isn’t won. All of us have the right to pray as we are called.
Yes, there are some who in the name of Islam, or Christianity, or Judaism, or Buddhism, or Whateverism, abuse their spiritual heritage and become violent, hate-filled thugs. Their actions are deplorable, and we need both to stand up to them and to condemn them — loudly.
But all of us have the right to pray as we are called. All of us. And when I light my Hanukkah candles, I pray for the Universal Hanukkah.
Rev. Steven Greenebaum is the minister at Living Interfaith Church in Lynnwood. He self-identifies by saying his faith is Interfaith, his spiritual path is Judaism and his tribe is humanity. The Living Interfaith website is www.livinginterfaith.org.
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