I think I can summarize the significance of Hanukkah in the faith life of the average Catholic in one word, “Huh?” I don’t think Catholics know much about the celebration of Hanukkah beyond the extent to which it is analogous to our own solstice festival, Christmas. From the outset, I would like to note how fortunate we are to be discussing together a topic that begins, for most Catholics anyway, with a question mark. In education, as well as inter-religious dialogue, an open curiosity is a great way to start. For those of you who think you know what Hanukkah is about, I hope to convince you that there is much more yet to be considered. I will review some of the major versions of the Hanukkah story, political and theological, and end with some themes and questions which I hope will prompt further discussion at your tables today and throughout the season.
One way in which Hanukkah is particularly well suited for Jewish-Catholic dialogue results from the fact that the most ancient sources about Hanukkah were written by Jews and preserved by Catholics. First and Second Maccabees are part of the Catholic Old Testament, but not the Jewish Bible or Protestant Old Testament. The story presented in the Talmud is rather different. I think we can come to a fuller understanding of the story by putting our resources together, in this case rather literally drawing from both of our textual traditions.
First Maccabees, followed by Josephus, gives a remarkably political interpretation of the rededication of the temple. First Maccabees celebrates the military prowess of Judah Maccabee, elevates his heroic status as liberator of the Jewish people from foreign oppression, and praises him as savior of the Temple, presented as the center of Jewish national pride. Judah Maccabee’s heroism legitimates the dynasty of his family, the Hasmoneans, who claimed the office of king and high priest for almost a hundred years. These points alone are debatable. Many historians understand Judah Maccabee as a partisan in a civil war who spent more time fighting other Jews than foreign aggressors, who relied on diplomacy and intrigue more than God and bravery to gain control of Jerusalem, and whose family’s claim to the monarchy and high-priesthood violated the standard that those offices should be filled by descendents of David and Zadok. My point is not to reconstruct the precise events, but to contrast the political interpretation in First Maccabees with the more theological interpretation in Second Maccabees. In First Maccabees God is an object of piety and a vague force of providence, but hardly interventionist. This is a God who helps those who help themselves, or at least works through heroes who exhibit a rather secular standard of bravery and military skill.
It may not be surprising that this is not the dominant emphasis in Jewish and Christian interpretation. Some of the controversial points here may explain why Hanukkah is virtually suppressed, other than indirect mention, in the Mishnah, the third-century CE collection of Rabbinic law. The Rabbis did not have fond memories of the Hasmonean dynasty that started with the family of Judah Maccabee but ended in oppression of the Pharisees and imploded in internal dispute. The emphasis on military action against much larger foreign armies probably seemed less worthy of celebration in the wake of the failed revolts that led to the destruction of the Temple in 70 CE and banishment of Jews from Jerusalem in 135. Centuries later, Hanukkah becomes more prominent in Jewish thought, but along lines more theological than political, as I will discuss shortly. Not until the 20th century do we find a resurgence of the image of the Jewish warrior who valiantly protects the homeland from foreign aggression. This image is widespread in Israel today, such that Judah has a professional soccer team and even a beer named after him.
The opposite extreme is exemplified by Second Maccabees. This book recounts the same basic events, but reduces Judah to a prop used in the divine plan. The human heroes are not the warriors but the martyrs. The basic theology begins with the assertion that God can easily protect God’s Temple when God so chooses, so the desecration of the Temple indicates divine punishment for the sins of Jerusalem. Ordinarily, the punishment for sin is borne by the sinner, either individually or collectively. Second Maccabees depends on the relatively new idea of vicarious suffering, the idea that the particularly righteous, who deserve punishment less, can bear the punishment that others really deserve. In this case, a mother and her seven sons chose to suffer horrible martyrdom out of loyalty to God’s law. Although they died in the process, their devotion turned God’s wrath to mercy, such that Jerusalem was saved. Judah Maccabee just happened to be there. This is not just a case of double-agency, the common idea that both God and God’s human instrument get credit for a deed. The human agents and the modes of agency are completely different.
The theological principles here are common to Judaism and Catholicism, but the emphasis on saints and martyrs is more popular in Catholicism. These martyrs are recognized as saints by Catholicism and are celebrated in the liturgical year, more so before Vatican II. Catholics may not know much about Hanukkah, but if the question shifts to a related part of the story, the martyrs of Second Maccabees, the situation changes.
I might flag here a potential problem in dialogue. Christians tend to identify with the martyrs and assimilate them to the Christian martyrs, even though the Maccabean martyrs chose death over laxity regarding pork and circumcision. It is worth being sensitive to the reality that for most of Jewish history the oppressors were not the Seleucids but Christians.
With or without the emphasis on martyrs, the dominant emphasis in Jewish sources is on miraculous divine deliverance. This is not to say the heroism of Judah Maccabee was always suppressed or is incompatible with divine intervention, but the emphasis on divine miracles follows the flow of Second Maccabees far more than First Maccabees. Perhaps the most famous of these miracle stories is the one related in the Talmud, the story of the single vial of pure oil that should have lasted for one day but miraculously lasted for eight days. I believe Christians have great difficulty taking this as the foundation of a major holiday. Jim Belushi once compared the holiday to making it eight miles to the next gas station when the fuel gauge indicates enough gas for one mile. Especially when the same story includes noble martyrdom, chivalry in battle, and reclamation of holy sites from religious enemies, Christians have trouble appreciating the maintenance of purity and strict adherence to the procedure for lighting the menorah. Perhaps the Rabbis were trying to avoid glorifying sedition, crusades, the Hasmonean dynasty, or perhaps even the Temple itself once it was no longer a physical part of Jewish life. After all, God saved the Temple that time from the Seleucids, but not in 70 from the Romans.
However, I also think this version of the story emphasizes a positive note in Rabbinic Judaism, namely the idea that the freedom to observe Jewish law in the small matters of daily life is itself a miracle. No one would have died if the lamp had gone out or if oil of questionable purity had been substituted. But perhaps the miracle that most indicates God’s nature is not the preservation of the Temple or victory in battle, but the small miracle of getting through another week with one’s customs and standards intact. I think that if Christians read more of the Talmud, and they will certainly need help from Jews, they will come to appreciate the details of the Talmud, not as legalistic or ritualistic, but a way of life that centers on thoughtful deliberation and attention to the small matters of daily life.
Of course, these few minutes are just a taste of ways in which Hanukkah serves as fertile ground for Jews and Christians to share their curiosity and questions. I mentioned the problem that the festival is partly a celebration of the deliverance of a Temple that no longer exists, but I’m not sure that Christians understand how Rabbinic Judaism moved beyond the idea that the Temple and its sacrifices are the only ways to fulfill God’s laws in the Torah. I think Christians could benefit from learning about the crisis of the Maccabean revolt as one of many examples in Jewish history when Jewish identity existed in the context of a foreign culture, and had to navigate coexistence between the extremes of isolation or assimilation. I appreciate the opportunity to speak with you today about some of these questions and starting points for dialogue, and I hope the openness and curiosity you are showing today stays with you and grows.