Rabbi Neal's Weekly Commentary

Dear Friends:

It is a very rare occasion when I get so many inquiries about something in the popular press that I use my weekly Torah study to offer reaction, but this week I’m going to make a rare exception, for two reasons:

1) It’s about Hanukkah, and it’s still Hanukkah.

2) Hanukkah rarely has two Shabbatot, but this year it does, which means there is a special haftarah read for the occasion, which won’t be read again for many years (till 2026, if hebcal.com is to be believed.)

With that, let’s first start with the inquiries I’ve been getting, which can be largely paraphrased as “What the heck did you think of what David Brooks wrote about Hanukkah in the New York Times?”

Well, in brief, I thought it was great, but I’d better explain why. Brooks retells the story of Hanukkah by casting it as a paradigmatic tale of the ironies of history, in which we (American Jews) celebrate “good guys” (the Maccabees) who were really fanatics fighting a civil war against their assimilated, Westernized brethren. The Maccabees, seen this way, look an awful lot like the “bad guys” (i.e., religious fanatics) in the Middle East today, whom we wish would just assimilate some Western values and not be so fanatical, as it were.

So if Brooks makes a none-too-subtle comparison between the Maccabees and contemporary religious extremists, why would I think his column is great, and even more importantly, why celebrate Hanukkah at all?

I liked his column because, to me, a fundamental Jewish value is smashing idols, which are not so much hunks of wood and stone but rather dead and immobile and unreflective ways of thinking. I appreciate the efforts of an iconoclast because a bit of idol-smashing keeps us honest, and in truth, the notion that Jews are always on the side of right and good versus the evil oppressors who want to kill us is our own idol of victim status and moral self-satisfaction.

Please note: the Hanukkah story, like any other important story, can be told at different levels of complexity depending on the audience. I have no desire to ruin Hanukkah for young children, who deserve their Hasmonean heroes, but neither do I wish to tell children’s stories to grownups, who can, in fact, handle the truth, and probably prefer it.

Not only that, but understanding the history of Hanukkah actually helps me appreciate the transcendent element even more, and this brings us to the once-a-decade (or so) haftarah for the second Shabbat of Hanukkah, from the book of 1 Kings. It’s the story of how King Shlomo [Solomon] commissioned the first Temple, and hired a guy named Hiram to oversee the work and make the stone and metal vessels and structures. In fact, this haftarah isn’t much more than the report of a successful building project, with the mention of the gold lampstands being the obvious connection to Hanukkah.

What this haftarah does, however, is complete the implicit narrative of Hanukkah that the ancient rabbis tell with the Torah and haftarah readings, which details the dedication of the Mishkan [portable Sanctuary] under Moshe, the building of the First Temple by Shlomo, and the building of the Second Temple by the generation of Zechariah (as we discussed last week.) The Maccabees rededicated the Second Temple, which was destroyed a few generations later by the Romans, which started the next major era of Jewish history.

By linking the Mishkan, the First Temple, and two phases of Second Temple history, the rabbis tell a larger story of Hanukkah, the story of how in every generation Jews found a way to dedicate themselves to religious ideals in the face of difficult historical challenges. That story doesn’t end with the Romans destroying Second Temple; rather, it continues in the observance of Hanukkah itself, which is in its very practice a continuation of the story of Jewish dedication. To me, that larger story- of Jews in every generation somehow finding a way to make the light shine- is only deepened by knowing the complexities and ironies and problems of Jewish history. Somehow, despite our flawed heroes, in every generation we’ve built something holy. Somehow, with our faults and divisions and conflicts, we’ve lived as a unique people despite all odds. Somehow, in the face of tremendous social and political barriers, with no lack of miscalculation on the part of our leaders, we’ve managed to find enough spiritual fuel to keep going past all logical limits, far outliving the empires that once oppressed our ancestors.

That’s also the real story of Hanukkah, and it’s more than enough for me.

Hag Urim Sameach,

RNJL

Good morning!

Tonight is the first night of Hanukkah, the festival of lights, so let’s take a detour from our Torah readings for a Hanukkah thought or two.

Since we’re looking at the liturgical tradition this year, let’s see what the prayerbook has to say about Hanukkah. In the prayer which begins al ha’nissim, or “for the miracles,” which is a lengthy addition to the Amidah [standing prayer], we review the Hanukkah story, but with a decidedly theological perspective:

“. . . You gave the mighty into the hands of the weak, and the many into the hands of the few, and the defiled into the hands of the pure, and the wicked into the hands of the righteous, and the malicious into the hands of those who engage in Your Torah. And You made a great and holy name for Yourself in Your universe; and to Your nation, Israel, did You grant a great salvation and liberation . . . . ”  [translation taken from ou.org and full version here]

This version of the Hanukkah story has no little jar of oil, not much praise for the Maccabees, and pretty much says that the entire victory was a miracle from the Holy One. In this version of the story, Hanukkah is a remembrance of miracles that God did for us, and our response is thanks and praise.

That’s one perspective on the religious meaning of Hanukkah. Another perspective comes from the Torah portions we read every day of the holiday, taken from Bamidbar/ Numbers, chapter 7. This is the story of the dedication of the Mishkan, or portable Sanctuary, in the days of Moshe, and what makes this story unusual is its repetition of the accounting of each gift that each prince brought on behalf of each tribe of Israel. The gifts were all equal, and the Torah goes out of its way to list each one separately, even though we can see that each prince brought the same set of dedication presents on behalf of his tribe.

To me, there’s an interesting tension between al ha’nissim and the Torah readings: the text from the siddur is all about what God did for us, and the text from the Torah is all about what we bring to God. I see the meaning of Hanukkah as the creative space between two basic religious orientations: the first being awareness and gratitude for wondrous things in our world, and the second being our response to that wonder, which is a bringing of the self into constantly increasing mindfulness of our obligations towards others and the world. To put it another way, if Hanukkah was only about remembering the military victory of our ancestors, it might be important, but it wouldn’t be a sacred practice; if it were only about gratitude for miracles, it would teach a spiritual and moral passivity that is the very opposite of the qualities we admire in the Maccabees.

Hence, the symbol of light, which is something we create, and yet reflects back to us the possibility of a transcendent experience. We bring the Hanukkah lights, and yet, like the gifts for the Mishkan, they point us to something beyond mundane concerns, an aspect of the Sacred which we can draw upon as we rededicate not a place, but ourselves.

Shabbat Shalom and happy Hanukkah,

RNJL

Copyright 2011 Neal Joseph Loevinger

Torah Portion: Hanukkah

This year the calendar falls out such that there are two Shabbatot
during the week of Hanukkah, so we have two special haftarot taking
the place of the usual haftarah for each week.

This week we read from the prophet Zechariah, who lived at the time
when the Second Temple was being built (about 520 years before the
common era) after the first exile. Zechariah has a great vision of a
rebuilt and restored Temple service, so it’s easy to see how that
connects with Hanukkah, which remembers the rededication of that same
Second Temple a few hundred years later. In particular, in Zechariah
4, there is a vision of a golden menorah (lampstand), which again
provides an obvious connection to Hanukkah.

Somewhat subtler is the verse in Zechariah 4 which explicates the
vision of the menorah:

“This [the preceding vision of the golden menorah] is the word of the
LORD to Zerubbabel: Not by might, nor by power, but by My spirit —
said the LORD of hosts. Whoever you are, O great mountain in the path
of Zerubbabel, turn into level ground! For he shall produce that
excellent stone; it shall be greeted with shouts of ‘Beautiful!
Beautiful!'” (Zech. 4:6-7)

OK, once again, I can hear you asking: what’s a Zerubabbel? The answer
is, not a what, but a who: Zerubbabel was the grandson of an earlier
king of Judah, and he himself was a leader of the community that came
back from exile and started working on the Temple. Thus, when the
prophet says that the vision of the menorah is a word to Zerubbabel,
it means that the prophet is conveying to the leader of the community
a vision of what he must do, along with encouragement that he can
accomplish it.

Note that the Temple and its lights will be rebuilt “not by might, and
not by power, but by My spirit.” Some have seen in these words a
subtle hint on the part of the ancient rabbis that however much we
might admire the Maccabees, we ought not rely on military means to
secure redemption for our people. (That argument probably made a great
deal of sense in the time of the Roman occupation of Palestine but
it’s probably a moot point after the establishment of the State of
Israel.)

Another quite beautiful interpretation of “not by might, and not by
power” comes from Rabbi Samson Raphael Hirsch, who lived in Germany in
the late 1800’s. He says that this prophecy teaches that when our
efforts are oriented towards holy ends, we should never be discouraged:

“Let every human circle know, every individual person, even the
outwardly weakest and smallest, that as soon as he is penetrated with
My Spirit, and thereby places himself in the service of justice,
brotherly love, and holy living, he has the strength of giants in
accomplishing his work. . . .”

With this interpretation, what was in Biblical times the work of
building a physical structure is expanded to include all who toil to
create a more sacred world. It’s not by physical might or power of any
kind that the Divine Presence is made real to us, but by openness of
the soul and orientation towards the Holy. That’s a great message for
Hanukkah: that our work of justice and compassion is not held back by
the fact of our being ordinary, flawed human beings. We can accomplish
great things with nothing more than humble and open hearts- and
thereby bring light to the world.

Shabbat Shalom and Happy Hanukkah,

RNJL

Copyright 2011 Neal Joseph Loevinger

Torah Portion: Hanukkah

Happy Hanukkah!

This week’s Torah portion is Miketz, which continues the story of
Yosef and his brothers, but today, following our theme this year of
looking at the application of Jewish practice, we’ll briefly consider
a more . . . (ahem) . . . .burning issue: where to put the Hanukkah
menorah, or Hanukkiah.

[“Menorah” just means “lamp,” and in the Bible, the “menorah” was the
seven-branched lamp in the Temple. A special menorah for Hanukkah is,
technically, a Hanukkiah.]

Many will know that the blessing we say after lighting the Hanukkiah
is called “al ha’nissim,” which is a short blessing of gratitude for
the “nissim,” or miracles, done in this season (of the year) in those
days (of the Maccabees.) The lighting of the Hanukkiah is a way of
doing what’s called “publicizing the miracle,” that is, proclaiming it
or displaying our re-enactment of it. Maimonides, [A.K.A. Rambam]
uses slightly different language in his book of Jewish law called the
Mishnah Torah: he says that we light the lamp near (or over) the door
of the house in order to “show and reveal” [l’ha’rot u’l’galot] the
miracle. (Laws of Megillah and Hanukkah, 3:3)

So why do so many people light their Hanukkiah on the dining room
table, or over the fireplace? Probably because of a practice inherited
from their ancestors to do so- it goes back many generations that in a
“time of danger” it was permissible to make the lighting of the
Hanukkah a private, family affair. In other words- if it wasn’t a wise
idea to draw attention to the fact that there were Jews celebrating a
holiday in the the house, one didn’t have to do so.

However, in contemporary North America, where by and large Jews are
not in danger, it would seem that the proper way to fulfill the
mitzvah of lighting the Hanukkiah would be to put it in a window or
doorway, to “make known” the miracle to those who pass by. In fact,
one can say “al hanissim” when seeing Hanukkah lights that are not
one’s own, even though the mitzvah is to light in each household.

Yesterday a major candidate for President of the United States
mentioned his belief that “nativity scenes and menorahs should be
welcome in our public places.” Whatever one’s political or legal
opinions about putting “nativity scenes and menorahs in public places”
(recognizing a difference between “public” in the sense of communally
owned, like City Hall, versus “public” in the sense of a space open to
all, like a privately owned shopping mall or plaza), what’s
interesting is that precisely to the extent that one feels safe as a
Jew in North America, one should, according to the traditional
practice, be willing to “go public” with Hanukkah lighting. This is
not an argument for a Hanukkiah which is 25 feet high- one doesn’t
have to be garish to make known the miracle- but only the observation
that putting a Hanukkiah where more people can see it is in keeping
with the traditional view of how to observe the mitzvah.

Seen this way, putting one’s Hanukkiah in the window is an act of
Jewish confidence, as it were. That, in turn, is an even greater
re-enactment of the history of the Maccabees than even lighting the
lights- we become the ones who say: “this is who I am, and this I
believe.”
Hanukkah is not only when we remember the “days of old,” but when we
declare to ourselves and others who we and what we hold precious- today.

Shabbat Shalom and a happy Festival of Lights to all,

RNJL

Copyright 2011 Neal Joseph Loevinger

Torah Portion: Hanukkah

Happy Holidays to one and all! For my those readers who are
celebrating Hanukkah, we’re in for a treat this year, because only
occasionally does Hanukkah have two Shabbatot [Sabbaths] in its eight
days. Thus, this week we read a special Haftarah [prophetic reading]
instead of the usual haftarah for the Torah portion Miketz, but it’s
the special haftarah for the times when there is a second Shabbat
during Hanukkah.

This text, from the book of 1 Kings, which is also the haftarah for
the Torah portion Vayehkel, describes the crafting of the implements
and vessels for the First Temple. Since Vayekhel is all about the
building of the Mishkan, or portable sanctuary, this text connects an
early period of Biblical history with a later one. The connection with
Hanukkah is also clear: King Shlomo [Solomon] crafted and dedicated
the sacred objects of the first Temple, and the Maccabees would purify
and rededicate the sacred objects of the Second Temple.

What’s interesting to me is the specific verses from 1 Kings 7 that
the rabbis chose; these verses distinguish between the contributions
of King Hiram, of Tyre [in what we’d now call Lebanon] and those made
by his friend and ally Shlomo, king in Jerusalem:

“Hiram also made the lavers, the scrapers, and the sprinkling bowls.
So Hiram finished all the work that he had been doing for King Solomon
on the House of the Lord: the two columns, the two globes of the
capitals upon the columns; and the two pieces of network to cover the
two globes of the capitals upon the columns, the four hundred
pomegranates for the two pieces of network, two rows of pomegranates
for each network, to cover the two globes for the capitals upon the
columns . . . . .” (1 Kings 7:40-42)

The verses above are only a part of the description of Hiram’s
contributions to the Temple- for the full description see the text
link below. To me, the inclusion of the contributions of a non-Jewish
king towards the building of the sacred center of the Jewish nation is
striking on a holiday which commemorates the revolt against another
non-Jewish king, albeit a much less friendly one, Antiochus. Perhaps
bringing the story of Hiram into Hanukkah helps us remember that not
all foreign powers were hostile to Israel, and indeed, although the
Jews have certainly suffered persecution over the centuries, we’ve
also made friends, allies and partners with peoples of every culture
and nation.

Even today, when there is a real threat of anti-Semitism in Europe and
the Middle East, there are also strong ties of affection and respect
between Jewish communities and their neighbors, both secular and
religious, in many countries where our people live. The Hanukkah story
is one of courage and hope, of vision and determination, but we cannot
say that these events are paradigmatic in Jewish history. Our people
have had our ups and downs, our periods of great glory and our periods
of great struggle, times of suffering under Antiochus and the
contribution of beautiful gifts from Hiram- and to the extent that we
remember that there is goodness in the world, along with evil, we can
build up the good, and bring its light wherever it is needed.

Hag Urim Sameach [Happy Holiday of Lights] and Shabbat Shalom,

rnjl

Copyright 2011 Neal Joseph Loevinger

Torah Portion: Hanukkah

Happy Hanukkah, the “Holiday of Lights!”

Here’s a question: have you ever wondered about the whole eight-nights, one-flask of oil story, and whether it really explains how and why we light the Hanukkiah (Hanukkah lamp) the way we do?

Think about it: imagine that indeed, one flask of oil lasted eight nights. You’d start out with a bright flame, and then the flame would slowly flicker out and become smaller and smaller as the remaining oil was stretched out to fit the eight-day dedication of the Temple.

If we were lighting eight lights to commemorate the miracle of the oil, should we not then start out with eight candles and trickle down to one, to remember how the oil lasted before it ran out?

If you think that’s a good question- well, I can’t take credit for it. In the Talmud, the sage Shammai proposed lighting the Hanukkiah just that way: starting out with eight, and ending with one, in a re-enacting of the miracle as we imagine it might have happened. However, the sage Hillel ruled that we light starting with one, and going to eight, and we follow his more joyful, less literalist interpretation of remembering the miracle.

One reason that we follow Hillel is the principle of “ma’alin b’kodesh”- we ascend in
spiritual levels. For example- we may turn an ordinary building into a synagogue, but we should not, if at all possible, turn a synagogue into an ordinary building (a shop or apartments, perhaps.) Thus, if lighting Hanukkah lights is a holy act, lighting two is a greater act than lighting one, and lighting three is a greater act than lighting two.

Perhaps what Hillel means to teach us is a variation on the idea that “mitzvah goreret mitzvah“- a mitzvah leads to a mitzvah, which is often understood to mean that
once we turn our souls towards the doing of holy deeds, we strengthen and orient ourselves towards spiritual goals, and in a wonderful “positive feedback loop,” spiritual deeds lead to spiritual growth which leads to the desire to do more spiritual deeds . . . . and so on. The spiral can also start with study: study leads to action which leads to the
desire for greater understanding, which leads to study, which leads to inspiration, which leads to action!

In the days of the Maccabees, Judaism was at a low point, to say the least. Hillel wants to remind us: if your spirituality is a low point- start somewhere small, but start. Light one candle, and you’ll be inspired to light two. Light two, and it will lead to three. This applies to prayer, to tzedakah, to acts of lovingkindness, to anything that strengthens and grows our souls. Start small, and great things will follow. We ascend in holiness, and with God’s love flowing from within us, keep growing.

A happy holiday of lights to all,

rnjl