There is not a single element of Chanukah that is not confusing or hotly debated. For example, probably the most famous Talmudic debate of all times is, of course, the one between Shammai and Hillel – one candle on night one, two candles on night two, etc. or, eight on day one, seven on day two, etc. Going up or going down. This tradition of Chanukah debates continues through modern disputes such as, which one is better, latkas or donuts. I was watching a video the other day of such a debate (yes, this is a thing), and the donut defender stated that latkas are for old fashioned people and donuts are for modern Jews. The assumption being that latkas come from Eastern Europe where some of our grandparents ate variations of potatoes for breakfast, lunch, and supper, and donuts come from… Dunkin Donuts.
Now I am a little biased – I happen to be in the latka camp; savory, crispy, potatoes outweigh super sweet dough any day, but biases aside, the guy was totally wrong. The real donut story goes back to at least the 12th century. The Rambam’s father defends the custom of eating sweet fried dough on Chanukah and says it is an ancient custom not be belittled. Jelly donuts in puffy dough goes back to the 15th century. In the very first cookbook to ever be published in the printing press, there is a recipe for what is described as gefullte krapfun, which is apparently German for jelly donut.
Years later, the controversy continues here in Baltimore with an even more hotly debated question – sufganiyot made by Rosendorffs or Parisers?
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It gets more complicated – If I were to ask you why we eat fried food you would all tell me because of the oil that was found in the Bais HaMikdash by the Maccabees. But even that is not necessarily the case. There is a theory, and brace yourselves, that the reason we eat food fried in oil on Chanukah is to remind us of the tragic and beautiful story of Chana and her seven sons. In Maccabees 2, a book written in 150 BCE, we are told of a woman and her seven sons who are brought before the Greek ruler who demands that they serve an idol. One by one the children refuse, affirming their faith in Hashem, and are subsequently killed by the Greeks. The seventh son, the youngest one, is killed in the most horrific fashion – he is placed in a tremendous pot filled with… burning oil. Dr. Malka Simkovich, a brilliant historian, wonderful human being, and friend, suggests that this story is the reason we eat sufganiyot or latkas on Chanukah. I know, I just killed your appetite.
Here’s another example of confusion – Were the branches of the Menorah rounded or straight? Most of us assume they were round. However, the Lubavitcher Rebbe made a very big deal about the branches being straight; Chabad chassidim take his view very very seriously and will defend this view at all costs. …
All jokes aside, the real genuine controversy of Chanukah, and an important one, is mai Chanukah. That is the question asked by the Talmud in Meseches Shabbos – Mai chanukah? What is chanukah? And the Gemara then shares the classic story that we all know, of Greeks who attempted to stifle religious behavior, of the Maccabees mobilizing the people to rebel against the Greeks, ultimately defeating them, establishing the Hasmonean monarchy, coming back to a desecrated Bais Hamikdash where they find one jug of pure oil that burns for eight days.
But being that it’s Chanukah, it’s much more complicated than that.
Yes, the Maccabees defeated the Greeks in 164 BCE, regained control of the Bais Hamikdash, and created a holiday shortly thereafter. But what that holiday is meant to represent is a mess of contradictory ideas. The following historical overview is also based on the scholarship of Dr. Simkovich. In 143 BCE, a letter was sent to the Jews of Egypt encouraging them to celebrate the holiday of Tabernacles in Kislev. Tabernacles is another word for Sukkos. It seems, that Sukkos could not be celebrated that year due to the Greeks control of the Bais Hamikdash and so every year after, the celebration was about the holiday of Sukkos being made up (eight days, full Hallel, and more). A few years later, another letter is sent to the community in Egypt, this time the holiday of Kislev is described as the Holiday of Purification. This is a little closer to our Chanukah story as it reflects the fact that the Temple was impure and the Jews made it pure. However, 20 years later, yet another letter is sent, this time the holiday of Kislev has nothing to do with the Greeks and Chashmonaim and is described as a holiday commemorating a miracle that took place in the times of Nechemia, some three hundred years prior to the Chanukah story! About 150 years after that, we find Josephus mentioning this holiday which he describes as the holiday of lights but… he doesn’t know why it’s called the holiday of lights!!! The first mention of the miracle of the oil does not appear until the Talmud is written a few hundred years later.
Now, this does not mean the miracle of the oil did not take place. If anything, Josephus supports the fact that there was a miracle involving lights. What it does mean is that many Jews celebrated Chanukah for an entirely different reason than we do.
One of the most notable differences is how the Talmud deemphasizes the military victory and the earlier generations of Chanukah celebrants most certainly focused almost entirely on the military victory of the Hasmoneans. And of course, the question is why? Why did the rabbis deemphasize the military battle and focus instead on the miracle of the lights?
There are many theories – of course. Some suggest the Jews, living under foreign rule, did not want to get in trouble by talking about Jewish military campaigns, some suggest it had to do with Christians who adopted the Chashmonaim as their own heroes and the rabbis wanting to distance themselves from the Christians. But probably the most straightforward explanation is – the Hasmonean dynasty was an epic failure.
Not only did they not maintain the spiritual stature of the first generation of Maccabees, but by the second generation of Hasmonean kings, two brothers were fighting over the throne, and one of them went ahead and invited the Romans to help him. The Romans came along, helped this Hasmonean brother out and then, within a very short amount of time, took over all of Judea, leading directly to the destruction of the Bais Hamikdash and the exile of the Jews.
The rabbis had to tweak the focus of this holiday because the sad and tragic story of the Chasmonai failure is the real Chanukah story.
Now before you accuse me of not only ruining all fried foods for you but also ruining Chanukah, let me tell you why I find the original Chanukah story with its horrific ending to be the most uplifting of all.
All Jewish holidays have a happy ending. Jews were in Egypt, they were freed, let’s celebrate Pesach. Jews were in a scary desert, they were protected, let’s celebrate Sukkos. The Jews were living in an immoral, backward society, they were given the Torah, let’s celebrate Shavuos. The Jews were going to be killed by Haman, they were saved, let’s celebrate Purim.
They are all beautiful stories worthy of celebrating, but almost none of them reflect our day-to-day experiences. Many of our personal life stories do not have happy endings. I was speaking to someone the other day who referenced a very popular podcast by Tzipora Grodko called Stories of Hope. This person contrasted her own life to the life of the guests on Stories of Hope, people with amazingly inspiring stories of overcoming odds and accomplishing great things. The woman I was speaking to did not have a hope-filled story. Now Tzipora Grodko is a gem of a person and it’s a wonderful podcast, so this is not a knock on her, but as I told this woman, I would like to create a podcast in competition with Tzipora’s called Stories of Hopelessness; sharing stories that do not have a happy ending.
I say this somewhat tongue in cheek, but I mean it. Not only because most of our lives are not inspiring. But because there is nothing in our Jewish tradition that suggests that in Olam Hazeh, in this world of exile that we live in, in this pre-messianic era, that our personal stories will have a happy Halmark ending. They don’t. There is nothing wrong with being inspired by stories of hope, but it’s important to remember that we cannot expect our lives to follow this trajectory.
What I personally find incredibly uplifting is our ability, as a people, to recognize this, to say that the Maccabean victory dissolved into a terrible mess, the temple is destroyed, we are exiled all over the world, and yet, we are still able to be connected to our tradition, to Hashem. That we can, in the cold months of the winter, when it’s dark outside, light a little candle, and say that despite all this impurity we are surrounded by, despite all the waves of history trying to extinguish us, we are still holding on. That. Is. Remarkable. And that can inspire me every day of my life, whether I brilliantly succeed or fail miserably; I have a Chanukah story, a tradition that reminds me to hold on.
I imagine many of you have seen the video that was just released; some footage found deep in a tunnel in Gaza of Hersh Goldberg-Polin, Carmel Gat, Eden Yerushalmi, Almog Sarusi, Ori Danino, and Alex Lobanov, celebrating Chanukah. Instead of a real Menorah they have makeshift cups. One of them jokingly asks, where are the donuts? And they joke around how they should have asked their captors to bring them a dreidel. But then one of them asks what Hersh is singing – he is singing Maoz Tzur. Hersh explains that each paragraph of the song describes a different enemy that tried to kill us and was unsuccessful. Eden comments that they should add another verse [to describe the war against Hamas.]
Hersh, Carmel, Eden, Almog, Ori, and Alex never made it out of those tunnels. But tell me their story is not an inspiration. Tell me, this group of strangers who bonded over their common heritage and destiny, to light a flame in the darkest of places, who believed in G-d and in the Jewish People even though they themselves would never see the light of day, tell me that is not the most uplifting, on-brand Chanukah story of all.
Mai Chanukah? What is Chanukah really? It is a story of winning the battle and losing the war, it’s a story of exile, it’s a story filled with confusion, and that is it’s greatness. When we light that Menorah, we can remind ourselves of those hostages who had faith in the darkness, who likely knew their story would not have a happy ending, and were still able to sing a song of faith. That is real life. And that is the real Chanukah story. And I find that incredibly inspiring.
Good Shabbos and Happy Chanukah.