Remember, “It’s Much More Than Just a Candlelight”* (the “missing” Saturday post w/excerpts) December 9, 2023

Posted by ajoyfulpractice in "Impossible" People, Books, Changing Perspectives, Chanukah, Dharma, Faith, Gratitude, Healing Stories, Hope, Karma, Life, Loss, Mathematics, Meditation, Men, Music, Mysticism, One Hoop, Pain, Peace, Philosophy, Religion, Suffering, Tragedy, Wisdom, Yoga.
Tags: 1 Maccabees, Beresh't, Chanukah, coding, computers, Deuteronomy, Devarim, dreidel, Eliyahu Touger, Ethics of the Fathers, Exodus, Genesis, hanukia, Hanukkah, Hebrew, Irving Montak z”l, Jan Adkins, Jean Reynolds, Leviticus, Maccabeats, Maccabees, Maimonides, Matisyahu, Matitiyahu, Matīṯyāhū, Moses ben Maimon, Nissim Black, Pirkei Avot, Rambam, Rear Admiral Grace Hopper, rving Montak, Shamash, Shemot, Vayikra, Yoga Sutra 1.36, Yoga Sutra 2.44
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“Happy Chanukah!” to all who are celebrating. May all be safe and protected, during the 16 Days of Activism Against Gender-based Violence (November 25^th – December 10^th) and on all the other days of the year.

This “missing” post for Saturday, December 9^th is a compilation of previously and newly posted information. You can request an audio recording of a related practice via a comment below or (for a slightly faster reply) you can email me at myra (at) ajoyfulpractice.com.

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“If [a person has the opportunity to fulfill only one of two mitzvot,] lighting a lamp for one’s home [i.e., Sabbath candles] or lighting a Chanukah lamp – or, alternatively, lighting a lamp for one’s home or reciting kiddush – the lamp for one’s home receives priority, since it generates peace within the home.
[Peace is of primary importance, as reflected by the mitzvah requiring] God’s name to be blotted out to create peace between a husband and his wife. Peace is great, for the entire Torah was given to bring about peace within the world, as [Proverbs 3:17] states: ‘Its ways are pleasant ways and all its paths are peace.’
Blessed be the Merciful One who grants assistance. This concludes the third book.”

— quoted from Mishneh Torah, Scroll of Hanukkah (Halakhah) by Rambam (translation by Eliyahu Touger. Jerusalem, Moznaim Pub. c1986-c2007, Dedicated in memory of Irving Montak, z”l)

Moses ben Maimon, known as Maimonides and often referred to as Rambam, was a Sephardic Jewish rabbi, physician, and philosopher who was as prolific and influential as he was (to some) controversial. He is remembered as one of the most important scholars of Torah and Halakhah (Jewish law) and his legacy is very much alive in the way people live, celebrate, and honor their faith. For example, one of his treatise  is a breakdown of Chanukah — in which he continually reinforced the most important aspects of the holiday in the event that one could not celebrate under ideal conditions.

Unfortunately, those contingencies were vital to people who have, historically, found themselves living under less than ideal situations. Of course, I understand that highlighting a reference to peace and Chanukah — especially one from Rambam, who was also an Islamic scholar — may feel off to some people right now.

But… let’s be real.

If you are Jewish, if you celebrate the commanded holidays, if you are in community with Jewish people — and/or Palestinian people — and/or if you are someone (like me) who honors the rituals and traditions of different cultures, Chanukah hits different this year. How could it not? After all, Chanukah is a celebration of a series of miracles directly connected to a revolt against oppression and battles fought for the survival of the Jewish community — and it started at sunset on Thursday night… exactly two months (to the date) after a horrendous terrorist attack in Israel.

The attack happened during a sacred time of celebration within the Jewish community and during a music festival that attracted people from around the world. It also happened around the anniversary of a war in 1973 (that also occurred during a holy time in both Judaism and Islam) and on the anniversary of other significant conflicts that have taken place in Israel and in the Gaza Strip. For two months and counting, Israelis and Palestinians (not to mention people of other nationalities who were in the area), have dealt with more terror and more horror, more conflict and more war… without any end in sight.

One could argue that none of this is new in the Middle East. One could argue that this darkness has been omnipresent and that people have celebrated Chanukah in Israel for decades in spite (and because) of this exact kind of darkness. One could argue that there have been (and continue to be place) places where it is not safe to celebrate — yet people find a way. One could argue that Chanukah has always inspired some people to shine in the way they live their faith and for some people to shine in the way they defend their faith.

I would argue, however, that for people outside of Israel — and maybe, even, for some people in Israel — the parallels between what was and what is are more striking. I would argue that what felt (for some) like a theoretical threat has become a very real (and present) existential danger. I would argue that while it is easy (maybe too easy) to ignore what was happening to others (e.g., random Greek citizens) during the the 2^nd century BCE, it is detrimental to ignore how this current crisis affects Palestinian civilians, a good majority of whom were/are children.

I would argue that it is one thing to study and debate the laws of faith when one can spiritually (and/or intellectually) bypass the connection between what someone thinks and says and the actions that person actually commits and/or inspires others to commit.

“It’s much more than just a candlelight
’cause we’ve fought more than just a little fight”

— quoted from the song “Victory” by Nissim Black

Full disclosure, I do not political (or even philosophically) align with the American-Israeli Rapper/Singer Nissim Black, who was born today (December 9^th) in 1986. That said, I have been inspired by some of his music, including his 2022 Chanukah song entitled “Victory.” Yes, the song and video literally (and figuratively) hit different given current events and the fact that his home is under attack. Yes, his song and lyrics are very intentional and specific to Chanukah and the Jewish people. None of that, however, negates the fact that the symbolism he references in the song applies to everyone in the world.

Remember: Light shines on more than one person or group of people and we all must fight against the darkness, inside of us and all around us.

For Those Who Missed It: The following excerpt was originally posted, in a slightly different context, in 2021. In addition to some slightly revisions, some dates and links have been updated. As we do in the physical practice, I encourage you to use it as a starting point for svādhyāya (“self-study”).

Light and the symbolic meanings of light have been celebrated since the beginning of time and by every culture on the planet. During the darkest times of the year, people celebrate light as well as the symbolic meaning of light overcoming darkness. In the Northern Hemisphere, we have a whole long list of winter celebrations that start around Halloween and will continue into the beginning of the new secular year. This year’s celebrations started with Samhain (October 31-November 1); which was followed by Diwali, the 5-day Indian festival of lights, (November 9-15); and now Chanukah, the 8-day Jewish festival of lights, which started at sunset on Thursday. The highlight, some might even say the culmination, of the Chanukah story is “the miracle of the oil,” the miracle of light. However, the fact that there were eight nights and eight days of light when there was only enough oil for one day is just one of many miracles in the story — and one could argue that it’s not even the final miracle.

“(1) Rabbi [Judah HaNassi] would say: Which is the right path for man to choose for himself? Whatever is harmonious for the one who does it, and harmonious for mankind.

Be as careful with a minor mitzvah as with a major one, for you do not know the rewards of the mitzvot. Consider the cost of a mitzvah against its rewards, and the rewards of a transgression against its cost….

(3) Be careful with the government, for they befriend a person only for their own needs. They appear to be friends when it is beneficial to them, but they do not stand by a person at the time of his distress.”

— quoted from Pirkei Avot (Ethics of the Fathers) (2:1 & 2:3)

More often than not, I question where to begin this story. For some, it makes sense to start with Matīṯyāhū and his sons, the ones who would become known as the Maccabees, and how they defied the orders of King Antiochus IV Epiphanes. But, I like to put certain actions in context – which means going back over two hundred years to the rule of Alexander the Great who, in the 4th century BCE, conquered Persia and expanded the Greek empire – an expansion that included the Jewish people.

Alexander’s attitude towards the Jews and their faith is sometimes described as “tolerant.” He didn’t really care what they did or what they believed, because he didn’t see them as a threat. Life was hard if you were a Jew under the reign of Alexander the Great, and even under the rule of many of the Greek kings that came after him. It was hard to make a living and you would face harassment and bullying, but you could do you (as we say these days).

Of course, some people wanted an easier life. Known as Hellenic Jews, these people changed the way they dressed and wore their hair; the things they ate; how they talked; and what they talked about. They even changed the way they practiced their faith. They stopped observing the Sabbath and (publicly) studying Torah. They stopped circumcising their male children or devised ways to hide the circumcision. This last part was necessary, because of there were many aspects of Greek life that required men to be nude. However, by the 2^nd century BCE it wasn’t enough to hide who you were. King Antiochus made it illegal, under penalty of death, to be Jewish or to practice the faith. He also created situations, like appointing High Priests and building a gymnasium outside of the temple, that made it harder for people to hide.

It’s one thing to keep the faith when doing so just makes things a little uncomfortable. It’s another thing altogether to keep the faith when doing so could result in your death. Yes, I know; throughout the history of religion there has been religious persecution and there have been people who kept the faith despite that persecution. But, whenever it happens, I think it’s a bit of a miracle.

To understand why people keep the faith, sometimes it’s helpful to understand what the believe. Definitely, in this case, to really understand the Maccabees and the gravity of what they did, we have to understand what they believed – which means getting into a bit of Torah… and, eventually, going back to the beginning of time.

“And God said, ‘Light will be,’ and light was.”

— Transliteration of the Hebrew from Bereishit – Genesis (1:3), most commonly translated as “And God said, ‘Let there be light,’ and there was light.

So, in the beginning of the Abrahamic creation story, there was God, there was heaven and earth, there was water, and there was “the spirit on the water.” There was also emptiness and darkness. Then, depending on how you translate or interpret the text from the Hebrew Bible (which is also the Christian Old Testament), God either created light with a command or predicted the existence of light. Either way, in the original Hebrew, the twenty-fifth word is ohr (“light”) and Chanukah begins, every year, on the 25^th of Kislev. (Similarly, Christmas occurs, every year, on the 25^th of December, but that’s a another story.)

Matīṯyāhū and his sons believed this creation story, believed in God and the power of God, and lived their lives according to their faith. They were priests who studied the word and the laws of their people and, therefore, observed the commandments and the commanded holidays. Of course, if you look at Vayikra–Leviticus 23, where the appointed festivals and holy days are outlined, you won’t find any mention of a festival of light. Neither will you find mention of Chanukah in the similar list located in Devarim–Deuteronomy 16. After all, the word chanukah means “dedication” and that doesn’t happen until later in the story.

What you will find instead, at the beginning of Vayikra–Leviticus 24, is a commandment to “take to you pure olive oil, crushed for lighting, to kindle the lamps continually” and detailed instructions on how the menorah should be publicly displayed (24:1-3). You will also find, at the end of Devarim–Deuteronomy 16 and the beginning of Devarim–Deuteronomy 17, commandments on what not to do; instructions to investigate reports of transgressions; and instructions on punishments. Now, I am not going to support or condone the instructions on punishments. I am just pointing out that they are there and that Matīṯyāhū and his sons believed in these instructions.

When the father was told to make a sacrifice to the Greek gods, he refused. When a Hellenic Jew stepped up to perform the desecration in his place, Matīṯyāhū killed him. His actions meant that he and his family had to flee to the caves in the wilderness. Others followed them — and I don’t just mean physically. They also followed them spiritually. In the caves, the people studied Torah, observed the Sabbath, and kept the faith. They were a light in the wilderness.

“The world that we live in, so much cold and strife
One little light to warm another life
Fill the darkest night with the brightest light
Cause it’s time for you to shine
A little dedication, a small illumination
Just one person to change a whole nation
Let me see the light”

— quoted from the song “Shine” by the Maccabeats

At some point, someone suggested that this father and his sons, this band of brothers, should take on the Greek army. Now, keep two things in mind. First, Matīṯyāhū and his sons were Kohens; they were priests and scholars. They weren’t warriors or athletes, like the Greeks. In fact, one could say that they were the polar opposite. Second, the Greek army at this time was (reportedly) the biggest and best trained army in the world. Remember, they were the army of a people and a culture that prized physical prowess. So, it was kind of ludicrous to consider going up against them.

Yet, take them on they did… which brings us back to their beliefs and the power of their beliefs.

Remember, the earlier commandments on setting up temple, observing the Sabbath, and all the different ways of keeping the faith were codified within the context of God leading the Jews out of slavery in Egypt. Matīṯyāhū and his sons may not have been physically ready for the battle, but they were mentally and spiritually ready. They knew the wilderness and they knew the Torah. They knew that in Shemot–Exodus 15, their ancestors sang of the power of God. They knew that story included the words, “Who is like You among the powerful, O Lord? Who is like You, powerful in the holy place? Too awesome for praises, performing wonders!” (S-E 15:11) And that, at least that first part, became their battle cry.

They put the initials of the battle cry on their shields and banners. When Matīṯyāhū died, Judah, the son he left in charge, became known as Judah Maccabee (or Judas Maccabeus, in Greek). While there are several other explanations for the name and for the meaning behind the name, the one I learned first was that Maccabee (the acronym) sounded like the word for “hammer” and so the people in the revolt became known as God’s hammer. For seven years, the hammer came down on the mighty Greek army and eventually defeated them. This, depending on how you count, is the second or third miracle of the story: the light breaking through the darkness.

“But when they saw the army coming to meet them, they said to Judas: How shall we, being few, be able to fight against so great a multitude, and so strong, and we are ready to faint with fasting today?

And Judas said: It is an easy matter for many to be shut up in the hands of a few: and there is no difference in the sight of the God of heaven to deliver with a great multitude, or with a small company:

For the success of war is not in the multitude of the army, but strength cometh from heaven.”

— 1 Maccabees 3:17-19 (DRB)

The Maccabees returned to the temple and found it was completely wrecked. Everything forbidden had taken place. There were idols and evidence of sacrifice. The menorah was not lit and bottles of olive oil had been shattered and in other ways desecrated. Cleaning up the temple became the new battle. Rededicating the temple became the new mission. In the process of cleaning up and restoring the temple, they (miraculously) found one vial of oil that still had the seal of the High Priest. Who knows how old the vial was? Who know who found it? Doesn’t matter. It was another miracle.

It would take several days, over a week, to make the oil required to light the menorah as detailed in the Torah. Using the one vial of oil would be a symbolic gesture — one might even call it a sign of faith. But, it wouldn’t fulfill the commandment, because they wouldn’t be able to keep the candles “continually” lit. They had to make a choice: wait or do what they could do.

They decided to do what they could do. Miraculously, the candles stayed lit. As I point out each year, going into the first day and the second night — even the second day and the third night — people might have thrown the word “miracle” around lightly. After all, there was always the possibility that someone had measured the oil incorrectly and that there was more than expected in the vial. (We won’t get into the odds of that happening or the odds of that particular bottle being the one that wasn’t violated.) However, as the nights and the days progressed, there was no denying that “a great miracle happened.”

Letters on dreidels (outside of Israel): nun (נ), gimel (ג), hei (ה), and shin (ש)

Letters on dreidels (in Israel): nun (נ), gimel (ג), hei (ה), and pei, (פ)

— Hebrew letters symbolizing the phrases (in Hebrew) “A great miracle happened there” and “A great miracle happened here”

Every year, people celebrate the miracle of the oil and commemorate the rededication of the temple. Part of that celebration is a game that involves spinning a four-sided top, a dreidel. Each side contains a Hebrew letter that represents a word. While many people only think of the dreidel in the context of modern celebrations, the practice of spinning the top actually dates back to the time of the Maccabees. It was a way for children (in particular) to study in secret.

Except in extenuating circumstances, when it is not safe to do so, people are instructed to place their hanukia (a special menorah for the occasion) next to their door or in a window that can be seen from the street — so that anyone walking past will be reminded of the miracle that started with faith. In some traditions, each person lights their own individual hanukia — again, in a place that is visible. Lighting the candles is a sign a faith, a sign that people are keeping the faith, and after all this time, that is itself a miracle.

Lighting the candles in as public of a way as is possible is a way to see someone’s faith and, also, a way by which the faithful “see everything else.” If you look at a hanukia you will notice that it is different from a regular menorah. The primary way it is different is that there are nine candles instead of seven. I know, if you are unaware of this, you’re thinking, “Wait. Aren’t there supposed to be eight candles?” One would think that, except for the fact that the eight candles (and lighting them) are part of a mitzvah (“commandment”). Therefore, they can’t do any other “work.”

The ninth candle, the one that is set apart — either out to the side or on a different plane than the others — is a worker, an attendant, a caretaker: the Shamash. It is the candle that lights all the other lights and, in Orthodox homes, it is the light by which people read the Torah and play the dreidel. It is the light by which people see.

Take a moment to notice, in this story and in all the other light related stories of this dark season (even the ones from faiths that don’t share roots), to notice there is always a worker, an attendant, a shamash or caretaker of the miracle. There is always someone who is the source of light. Whether that light is goodness, wisdom, love, kindness, compassion, equanimity, or joy there is always someone shining bright. And if we see the world in that light, by that light, we all end up living a better world.

Since the Saturday practice focused on grace (of self) as well as light, we ended with a little more light… and a little more grace — both in the form of a person who was true “shamesh” in the world: United States Navy Rear Admiral Grace Brewster Murray Hopper, who was born today (December 9^th) in 1906, and was known as “Amazing Grace,” “the Queen of Code,” “the Queen of Software,” and “Grandma COBOL.”

Click here for the 2020 post about the person who often gets the credit when we say we have a “bug” in the system.

“[Grace Hopper] said, ‘The most important thing I’ve accomplished, other than building the compiler, is training young people. They come to me, you know, and say, “Do you think we can do this?” I say, “Try it.” And I back ’em up. They need that. I keep track of them as they get older and I stir ’em up at intervals so they don’t forget to take chances.’”

— quoted from “Grace Hopper: The Admiral in Command of Knowledge” by Jan Adkins, published in  30 People Who Changed the World: Fascinating bite-sized essays from award winning writers – Intriguing People Through the Ages: From Imhotep to Malala Yousafzai (Got a Minute?), Edited by Jean Reynolds

Saturday’s playlist is available on YouTube and Spotify. [Look for “Chanukah (Day 2-3) 2022”]

NOTE: The YouTube playlists contains some official videos that are not available on Spotify. 

*TITLE NOTE: The title for this post features lyrics from the song “Victory” by Nissim Black (which can be found at the end of the playlists).

### PEACE ###