Reform Reflections: My Hanukka, Your Hanukka

Mai Hanukka? What is Hanukka? These words are to be found in the classic discussion of the festival in Tractate Shabbat of the Babylonian Talmud. The question is not without reason: in Talmudic times it was a relatively new celebration, and there was no telling it was going to catch on any more successfully than some which didn't stand the test of time ? just think, if things had worked out differently we might have been shopping for gifts for Nicanor Day.

What is Hanukka? How are we to understand its significance? In an excellent article published this week in a major Israeli daily, my colleague Rabbi Gilad Kariv, a brilliant young Israeli Reform rabbi, offers a compelling and relevant reading. Gilad, like others who espouse a liberal philosophy of Judaism, is not threatened by the notion that there is historical change within Judaism, or that our culture is constantly soaking in influences from outside. On the contrary: far from being threatened by this fact, he is emboldened and inspired by it.

Rabbi Kariv points out that the development of the festival of Hanukka in December may well be connected to the existence in many cultures of a festival of lights at the very darkest time of the year. He shows that our ancestors may well have been engaged in a polemic with surrounding cultures, opposing their pagan theology while adopting many of the forms and themes of the festival.

There is an irony here. After all, this is Hanukka, when - so we were always told in Religion School - the victory of uncompromising Jewish Pride against the backsliding of the Hellenizers is celebrated. How is it, then, that there are parallels to be found between our culture and the religions around us? Indeed, the more one delves into the history and ideology of the festival of Hanukka, the more ironies emerge. Here's another one: the Hasmoneans, those uncompromising enemies of Hellenism, showed signs of accommodation to Hellenistic culture, such as giving good Greek names to their sons. And yet another: these defenders of tradition were in a sense rebels, supplanting the earlier line of the High Priest, and adopting a leadership role almost without precedent in Jewish history.

The Festival of Hanukka has been re-interpreted throughout history, and different aspects have been played up on the one hand, and suppressed on the other. One explanation of the appearance of the miracle of the oil in the Talmudic account is that the Pharisees and their heirs were keen to play up the Divine miracle while playing down the human achievement: they may not have been so keen to present the Maccabees as such great heroes. In the years which have followed, this festival has been re-interpreted and different aspects of the tale have been emphasized, depending on context and preference.

One remarkable reading from Rabbi Moshe Teitelbaum, founder of the Satmar Hasidic dynasty, explains that for all their many virtues, the Hasmoneans are also to be reprimanded for taking destiny in their own hands and fighting, rather than waiting for Divine assistance. Some years later the Zionist movement was to praise them precisely for this quality. This debate about models of power and powerlessness also impacted Christianity - the tale of a mother and her martyred sons, recounted in the second and fourth books of the Maccabees, came to symbolize the essence of the tale in early Christianity - some have even suggested that the term "macabre" has its roots in the bloody tales of martyrdom. Spiritual resistance unto death was given pride of place over physical resistance in the cause of life.

In Reform circles, the significance of Hanukka has often veered away from the ethnic and towards the ethical - the light has been taken to represent hope and redemption for all who are oppressed and downtrodden. I must confess that while this universalist approach is in itself commendable, it is also a little pale and often platitudinous. In our day, it seems perverse to interpret the Hanukka tale in disembodied generalities. Our people have indeed struggled and prevailed in our times, and there seems little reason to bury the specificity in a sea of generic Season's Greetings.

My Hanukka is about the remarkable story of our people, and to me the story only seems more remarkable the more historical insight comes to replace stirring but facile fairy stories.

My Hanukka sees in the lights of the festival what Josephus Flavius saw - the light of hope in the face of adversity. (He didn't mention the miracle of the oil, perhaps because that tradition had not yet come into existence.)

My Hanukka is a time to consider the infinitesimally thin line which separates pride and resistance from vanity and zealotry; and for that matter the line (equally thin) which separates openness to the outside world from surrender to it, and loss of identity. It is, in other words, an opportunity to consider some of our greatest challenges and dilemmas.

My Hanukka is a time to marvel at the intricate dynamics of our history, and the suppleness of our interpretations.

My Hanukka is a time to be with family and friends, to over-eat, to rejoice, to enjoy.

My Hanukka affirms my deepest commitments and challenges my tired clichés.

That's my response to the Talmud's question Mai Hanukka. What's your Hanukka?