By: George Friedman
This week we are celebrating two holidays in our house: Hanukkah and Christmas. In the United States, Hanukkah has become an elongated Christmas focused on gift giving.
The true meaning of Hanukkah is lost, with most not understanding that they are celebrating victory in a brutal war between the Seleucids, heirs of the Alexandrian Empire, and a faction of the Jews who also engaged in a civil war against other Jews.
This happened almost two centuries before Christ (167-160 B.C.).
There was a war between Damascus and Jerusalem. The Seleucids wanted to control the Mediterranean, so they needed to take Egypt. In order to do that they had to take today’s Lebanon and Israel. They succeeded, but the further expansion of the empire fell victim to a Jewish rising.
The Seleucids had imposed laws on the conquest of Israel that required Jews to adopt Greek culture, and that included placing a statue of Zeus in the temple. Many Jews, preferring to be left alive, adopted these customs, some retaining hidden Jewish beliefs, others leaving it all behind.
But a faction led by a charismatic figure called Judah Maccabee (Hebrew for “hammer”) was revolted by this. Maccabee launched a war against the occupation and simultaneously against Jews who had capitulated to Greek sensuality. He waged a brilliant guerrilla war against the Seleucids, designed to cut lines of supply and communication between Damascus and Jerusalem.
He also carried out a civil war against Jews who had adopted Greek beliefs.
Maccabee was a charismatic figure who riveted the Jews, a superb strategist and tactician, and a fanatic waging a ruthless civil war against Jews who strayed from the path.
Hanukkah is the celebration of the defeat of the Seleucids and the occupation of Jerusalem. The story is told that, to purify and rededicate the temple, a lamp had to burn purified oil for eight nights. However, the Jews had enough oil for only one night. God wrought a miracle by allowing the lamp to burn for the full eight nights. Hence, the custom of lighting candles on eight successive nights.
The point is that the Americanization of Hanukkah adopted the custom of excessive gift giving, and forgot that the holiday is a celebration of a particularly bloody war. Judah Maccabee is remembered for his strength. For example, the Israeli sports festival, the Maccabiah Games, is named after him. Others might call him a brilliant if bloodthirsty maniac, but I won’t.
The Jews faced a geopolitical crisis as the Seleucids tried to recreate the Alexandrian Empire, and the Jews were in their path. Using superior knowledge of the terrain, and superb psychology to unite the Jews, the Jews stopped the Syrians (as they are called today) cold. Either version is defensible, but I like mine better, as it points to other battles between Damascus and Jerusalem, demonstrating my historical model. It also shows the power of America over the most stubborn of souls – Jewish ones.
In our home, we have another religious festival: Christmas. I was 38 years old when first I lived in a house that celebrated Christmas, filled with pagan symbols of the winter solstice, like Christmas trees, boughs of holly and fake snow. My wife was raised a Seventh-day Adventist.
People of this faith celebrate their Sabbath on Saturday and lay claim to being the heirs of the Jews. This is, of course, impossible because the Adventists have not waged any serious military operations at this point and no one is boycotting them.
I was in a sense horrified at the sight of the tree, awaiting the wrath of the Maccabees, or at least a jagged comment from my mother, who liked my new wife but would have been appalled at a Christmas tree. I made my peace with the matter by quoting Henry IV (who doesn’t quote him?).
He said Paris was worth a Mass, which meant that if pretending to be Catholic would get him Paris, it’s a cheap price. Since my wife would not countenance anything less than a full-bore Christmas, I determined that she was worth a tree.
We negotiated the matter. She could have her tree, but I would own the top and the bottom. On top would be a large Star of David. On the bottom, where Nativity scenes are normally found, would be something I could call a Syrian village, and on the bough above it, an Israeli F-16.
This was not meant to reflect any contemporary conflict, but a celebration of Hanukkah, far more authentic than some candles aglow. It is a reminder that had the Maccabees failed (and they were indeed beaten in a battle near Bethlehem), the story of Christ would be far different.
My argument was that by God empowering a particularly intense Jew, He set the stage for Jesus, who was born and loved on the ground the Maccabees fought for, and who purified the temple and expelled the apostates, just as Christ did with the moneychangers. Without Judah Maccabee’s divine madness, the village of Bethlehem would have spoken Greek.
And so, peace was made in our home, and our new marriage preserved and flourished. It united a man with a soul common to the Maccabees and a woman who, if not saintly then close enough for government work, performed a miracle – a marriage that celebrated the birth of Christ and effective guerrilla warfare. Indeed, I was introduced to Australian Christmas carols, which, if you have never heard them, is a must. Try “Six White Boomers” for a taste.
There are two deeper points I want to make. The first is that the intertwining of Judaism and Christianity is far more complex than many would appreciate. There is an inseparability that is noted but not really plumbed by either. The Jew sees the Christian as the assimilator of paganism.
The Christian sees the Jews as the people who were given God’s gift and rejected it. It is like a bad marriage. Each of them sees the failures of the other without grasping how inseparable the two are.
The other point is about America, the country I always marvel at. The Jews were able to come here and redefine Hanukkah as a benign celebration of God’s gift of seven extra nights of oil.
The Christians could come here and, despite their overwhelming power, make room for the people who rejected Jesus.
The commercialism of America is decried for having eroded the precious past.
Probably so, but it is noteworthy that it has also softened the differences.
Hanukkah is about war and vengeance; Christmas is about God’s love for man, imposed by political force for two millennia.
For Americans, the burning question is whether Amazon can get their gifts there on time.
There are far more terrible things to obsess over.
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