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Chanukah

Chief Rabbi Lord Sacks

The phrase that, for many, best epitomizes our time is 'the clash of civilizations.' That according to Professors Bernard Lewis of Princeton and Samuel Huntington of Harvard, is what we face in the twenty first century as the West is challenged by other cultures, among them China, India and the nations of Islam.

But the first great clash of civilizations happened over two thousand years ago in the events we commemorate in the festival of Chanukah. That was when ancient Greece and ancient Israel met and came into head-on conflict.

The Greeks of antiquity, especially those of the city state of Athens, produced some of the finest achievements of the human mind: philosophers like Socrates, Plato and Aristotle, dramatists like Aeschylus and Sophocles, the historians Herodotus and Thucydides, statesmen like Pericles and imperishable works of art and architecture. It was also the birthplace of democracy.

In the fourth century BCE it came under the rule of Alexander of Macedon, who eventually extended his empire over most of the known world at that time. After his death, the Alexandrian empire eventually split into three, the Antigonids in Greece, the Ptolemies in Egypt and the Seleucids in Syria. In the third century BCE Israel came under the Ptolemies and in the second under the Seleucids, one of whose rulers, Antiochus IV, bore the modest title 'Epiphanes' ("G-d made manifest').

Antiochus instituted a campaign against the public practice of Judaism. In the words of the book of Maccabees he attempted 'to force the Jews to abandon the customs of their ancestors and live no longer by the laws of God; also to profane the temple in Jerusalem and dedicate it to Olympian Zeus.' The Maccabees, inspired by Matityahu and his son Judah, rose in revolt, and won a historic victory, bringing Jerusalem back under Jewish control and enabling the faithful to cleanse the Temple and relight the Menorah, symbol of the eternal flame of Jewish faith. It was an event of world-historical significance: the beginning of the end of Greece as a world power.

What made Greece fall and Judaism survive? Lord Acton, the great 19th century historian, wrote this about ancient Athens: 'The philosophy that was then in the ascendant taught them that there is no law superior to that of the state -- the lawgiver is above the law. It followed that the sovereign people had a right to do whatever was within its power, and was bound by no rule of right or wrong but its own judgment of

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expediency.' Ancient Israel, by contrast, was 'founded, not on physical force, but on a voluntary covenant.'

The free society, according to Lord Acton, was born not in Athens but in Jerusalem. Democracy, the rule of the majority, can result in the oppression of a minority. Freedom needs something else: the recognition of the non-negotiable dignity of human beings, and the moral limits of human power under the sovereignty of God.

That remains an essential message in these tense and troubled times. Those who seek, by force, to impose their will on others will eventually fail, as did the Greeks. Judaic freedom, whose symbol is the menorah, is born in respect for the human individual as the image of God.

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The Real Victory of Chanukah

Chief Rabbi Lord Sacks

There is a law about Chanukah that I find moving and profound. Maimonides writes that ‘the command of Chanukah lights is very precious. One who lacks the money to buy lights should sell something, or if necessary borrow, so as to be able to fulfil the mitzvah1.’

The question then arises, What if, on Friday afternoon, you find yourself with only one candle? What do you light it as – a Shabbat candle or a Chanukah one? It can’t be both. Logic suggests that you should light it as a Chanukah candle. After all, there is no law that you have to sell or borrow to light lights for Shabbat. Yet the law is that, if faced with such a choice, you light it as a Shabbat light. Why?

Here is how Maimonides puts it: ‘The Shabbat light takes priority because it symbolises shalom bayit, domestic peace. And great is peace because the entire Torah was given in order to make peace in the world2.’

Consider: Chanukah commemorates the greatest military victory in Jewish history in ancient times. The battle of the Maccabees against the Greeks is recorded not only in Jewish sources but in ancient non-Jewish histories as well. It was an event of world changing significance. It marked the beginning of the end of the Alexandrian empire. It ceased to be the global superpower, and thereafter, world history would be dominated by the Romans, not the Greeks.

Yet Jewish law rules that if we are faced with a choice – if we can only light one candle – the Shabbat light takes precedence, because in Judaism the greatest military victory takes second place to peace in the home. And if we seek to understand the survival of Jews and Judaism from the days of Abraham to today, we should focus on this law.

The Greeks were intellectual and artistic giants. They excelled at art, architecture, drama, philosophy and poetry. The Athens of Plato and Aristotle, Aeschylus and Sophocles was a highpoint of civilization. The empire of Alexander, one of Aristotle’s pupils, was vast. The entire constellation of Greek achievements must have seemed impregnable, immortal. Yet after only a few centuries it lost its power, and a few centuries later, lost its influence as well.

Why did Judaism, alone among the civilizations of the ancient world, survive? I believe it was because it valued the home more than the battlefield, marriage more than military

1 Rabbi Moses ben Maimon (1135-1204), known by the acronym “Rambam” was a great

philosopher and codifier of Jewish law. See his Mishneh Torah, Hilchot Chanukah, 4:12 for the

idea cited here.

2 Ibid 4:14

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grandeur, schools more than monumental architecture, and children more than generals. Peace in the home mattered to our ancestors more than the greatest military victory.

So as we celebrate Chanukah, the victory of the Jews against the Greeks, spare a thought for the real victory, which was not military but spiritual. Jews were the people who valued marriage, the home, and peace between husband and wife, above the highest glory on the battlefield. In Judaism, the light of peace takes precedence over the light of war.

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Chanukah: Making Light With What Remains

Chief Rabbi Lord Sacks

The Israeli violinist Yitzhak Perlman contracted polio at the age of 4. Ever since, he has had to wear metal braces on his legs and walk with crutches, yet he became one of the great virtuosi of our time. On one occasion, the story is told; he came out onto the stage at a concert to play a violin concerto. Laying down his crutches, he placed the violin under his chin and began tuning the instrument when, with an audible crack, one of the strings broke. The audience were expecting him to send for another string, but instead he signalled the conductor to begin, and he proceeded to play the concerto entirely on three strings. At the end of the performance the audience gave him a standing ovation and called on him to speak. What he said, so the story goes, was this: ‘Our task is to make music with what remains.’ That was a comment on more than a broken violin string. It was a comment on his paralysis and on all that is broken in life.

That, it seems to me, is an extraordinarily powerful way of understanding the story of Chanukah. On the face of it, Chanukah is about many things. It recalls the stunning military victory of the Maccabees against the Seleucid-Syrian branch of the Alexandrian empire, which restored Israel’s independence. It marks one of Jewry’s most decisive cultural battles – against assimilation and Hellenisation. It brought about the return of Jerusalem to Jewish hands and the rededication of the Temple after its pagan desecration.

Each one of these events would have been enough to secure for Chanukah a lasting place in Jewish history. Yet what has remained engraved in Jewish memory is something else altogether: the story of the single cruse of oil, found undefiled amid the wreckage of the Sanctuary, that burned for eight days while new oil could be prepared for the Temple menorah. Jews responded almost exactly as did Yitzhak Perlman, by in effect saying: Our task is to make light with what remains.

Jewish history has been etched all too often with pain, persecution, suffering and defeat. Yet somehow Jews have always found the inner strength to rededicate themselves – Chanukah means ‘dedication’ – to the task of life.

As I light the menorah, I will be thinking of what it symbolizes in terms of the Jewish spirit. I will think of what a privilege it is to be part of a people who, instead of cursing the darkness, taught us how to light a candle of hope.

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Chanukah: A Clash between Greek and Jewish Values?

by Dr Irene Polinskaya, Fellow in Greek history at Kings College London and member of

South Hampstead United Synagogue

The story of Chanukah is often simplified as a failed attempt of a cruel Greek power to

force the Jews into abominable pagan practice. Such a crudely polarized account, in

historical terms, overlooks the degree of amicable contemporary interaction between

Jewish and Greek-speaking communities of the Eastern Mediterranean in the 2nd

century BC, and downplays the challenges faced by those Jews who wanted to uphold

their ancestral adherence to the law of Moses. The latter faced as many challenges from

within Jewish circles as from the outside.

To understand the meaning of political conflicts and religious struggles that underlie the

story of Chanukah we must look back to the times of Alexander’s conquest of the Near

East in the last third of the 4th century BC and forward to the progressive Roman

subjugation of the Mediterranean and the Near East from the early 2nd century BC

onwards.

The Hellenistic Age (323-31 BC)

The events of the Maccabean revolt (167-165) and the rededication (‘chanukah’ -

dedication) of the Jerusalem temple (165 BC) fall squarely in the middle of a historical

period called Hellenistic (323-31 BC). The Hellenistic (=Greek) period began with the

conquest of Asia by the Macedonian king Alexander the Great (331-323 BC). His

conquest and the creation of the Macedonian empire in place of the former Persian

empire led to the gradual spread of Greek language and culture throughout Asia Minor,

Near East, Mesopotamia, and Egypt.

A few hundred years earlier, in the 6th century BC, Cyrus the Great (ca. 580-530 BC),

defeated the Assyrians, took over and extended their possessions and established the

Achaemenid Persian empire, in the process allowing the Jews to return from their

Babylonian exile to Judea. Since that time, Judea was but a tiny part of the enormous

multi-ethnic Persian domain and given to self-government except for the payment of

tribute to the Great King. The latter ruled through local satraps who were responsible for

collecting taxes and making sure the indigenous populace in their charge kept calm.

Alexander’s policies in most regions of the Persian Empire, especially those that

submitted to him peacefully, was to retain the old manner of administration, granting

ancestral privileges and enforcing taxation. These grants applied to religious observance

as well as to social organization, and it appears that under Alexander Jews were allowed

to continue their traditional worship. Judea received the status of an independent tribal

group, ethnos, on par with Idumeans, Gazeans, and Azotians.

The arrival of Macedonians brought the establishment of military garrisons, forts (e.g., at

Shikmona, Ein-Gev, Joppa, Beersheba, Tell Malhata, Arad), and colonies of retired

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veterans, as well as the foundation of new cities (e.g., Philoteria) in Judea, the

neighboring regions of Coele-Syria, Phoenicia, and Samaria to the north, and Idumea to

the south. Hellenistic styles of construction were quickly adopted in Judea in the

designs of domestic and funerary architecture. As a result of Greco-Persian interaction

in the Eastern Mediterranean, Judea has been exposed to the Greek material culture

(pottery, terracottas and other luxury items) and the sight of Greek mercenaries in the

service of the Persians for some 150 years before the Macedonian conquest. Thus,

Jewish acquaintance with the Greek culture began as part of a natural economic and

diplomatic intercourse between peoples in the region. The Persian empire conquered by

Alexander the Great did not maintain its unity after Alexander’s death: 20 years on, the

empire was divided into smaller kingdoms by Alexander’s former generals who had

fought bitterly each for one’s own territorial domain. Egypt fell to the lot of Ptolemy I

Soter, who established the Ptolemaic dynasty. Asia Minor, Syria and Mesopotamia fell to

Seleucus I Nicator and his descendants, the Seleucids.

A wider context: Jewish Diaspora in Persia, Near East, Egypt (6th - 3nd centuries

BC)

Jewish residence was not limited to the small region of Judea in the Persian and

Hellenistic periods, and Jewish interaction with non-Jews in the diaspora was a matter of

daily life for some centuries prior to the Hellenistic period. Not all Jews returned from the

Babylonian exile: some still remained in Persia after the time of Ezra (ca. 458 BC). Other

Jews prospered in the bustling coastal cities of Phoenicia - Byblos, Tyre, and Sidon.

There was also a considerable Jewish minority in Egypt since the Persian times, which

initiated its own local center of worship, traces of which have been identified at the site of

Elephantine in the Upper Nile. The temple at Elephantine functioned as early as the 6th

century but declined by ca. 350 BC. At the time of Ptolemy I, tens of thousands of Jews

were either forced into relocation from Judea or moved to Egypt of their own will. In

addition, Jewish soldiers served in both Ptolemaic and Seleucid armies throughout the

Hellenistic period.

It should also be noted that in the early Hellenistic period (prior to the Maccabean revolt),

Gentile writers (e.g., Clearchus of Soli, Megasthenes, Hecateus of Abdera,

Theophrastus) formed a paradoxical conception of the Jews as true Greeks and a nation

of philosophers, and held Jewish monotheism in high esteem as an advanced form of

life philosophy. It is easy to see how such genuine admiration could flatter Jewish

intellectuals in the diaspora and dispose them favorably towards Greek learning and

culture.

100 years of peace: Jews Under the Ptolemies of Egypt (ca. 300 - ca. 200 BC)

For about 100 years, from ca. 301 to ca. 200 BC, Judea was under the control of the

Ptolemaic Egypt. Ptolemies’ approach to the government of their extensive realm was to

centralize administration and to place every manner of production in the purview of the

king, encouraging productivity and prosperity. The economy of Judea and her population

benefited from this economic upturn. We learn of a certain Jewish magnate Tobias,

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brother-in-law of the high priest Onias II, who resided in Transjordan, commanding a

Ptolemaic garrison and controlling much of the spice trade with Arabia. He is an example

of a prospering self-assertive Jewish cooperation with the Ptolemaic administration. The

son of this Tobias, Joseph, later successfully negotiated Judea’s position vis-à-vis the

Ptolemaic court and was granted leave to farm taxes in Syria and Phoenicia. Figures like

Tobias and Joseph represented the view of Jewish Hellenists who saw an interaction

with the Hellenistic economic, political, and cultural milieu as beneficial to the Jewish

ethnos. Wealth that stemmed from such interaction was therefore condemned by Jewish

anti-Hellenists as sinful, and poverty, in their view, came to be equated with piety. We

would later see this attitude among the Qumran sectarians.

The Seleucids and their Roman Ideas: a Maccabean Response

The times of peaceful collaboration with the Hellenistic world came to an end for Judea

ca. 200 BC with the change of political control from Egypt to Syria. In a broader sense,

they were framed by the rise in the West of a new world power – Rome. After the

Carthaginian defeat in the 2nd Punic War (218-202), Rome turned her attention to the

Eastern Mediterranean, advancing against Philip V of Macedon who had conspired with

Hannibal, and then against the Seleucid king Antiochus III, who was defeated in 190BC

at the Battle of Magnesia. The Peace of Apamea in 188 stripped the king of his

possessions in Asia Minor, and his son, the future Antiochus IV Epiphanes, was taken

hostage to Rome where he remained for over a decade (188-176), observing with

fascination the Roman military success and political organization. Upon his return to

Syria, he was possessed by a mania to arrange his own realm according to Roman

principles, no doubt in hopes of imitating their successes. Among other measures, he

sought to apply the Roman principle of establishing political control through a partial

extension of citizenship to local provincial elites. This may have been an idea behind

Antiochus’ seeking to “make one people” of his subjects (Book of Maccabees 1:41-42)

by offering “Antiochene” citizenship to willing groups in the cities of his realm. He may

have viewed his interference in the Judean temple state as a legitimate step in

protecting the civic interests of his newly enfranchised Antiochenes there, that is, the

Jewish Hellenists who willingly adopted this citizen status. A simultaneous enforcement

of religious uniformity, discernible in Antiochus’ decree, as described in the Book of

Maccabees 1:41-64, may have been another measure based on a Roman model. In

187 BC, the Roman Senate passed a decree suppressing popular participation in the

Dionysian cult in Italy on the grounds that private nightly gatherings of the populace

could serve as a fertile ground for political conspiracy. Antiochus could have witnessed

these events during his sojourn in Rome and later applied a similar logic to the treatment

of the Jewish worship in Judea, where the priestly class was a constant source of

political unrest in his time. His interference in the Jewish worship was therefore most

likely politically motivated, and not a matter of pagan attack on monotheism.

Antiochus’s approach to the administration of Judea, so different from the Ptolemaic,

polarized opinions and allegiances within the Jewish community. Some were eager to

become citizens of the new order, Antiochenes, just as they would later want to become

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Roman citizens. Others bided their time in the hope of a return to the familiar Ptolemaic

style of rule. Among anti-Hellenists, difficulties of theological kind further complicated

matters: Pietists believed that any foreign king set above them was divinely ordained,

and they were to endure whatever ill treatment, even death, at his hands on the

understanding that it was the divine will. Neither the camps of Hellenists, nor those of

anti-Hellenists were uniform, sporting multiple variations of opinion, and all parties

equally employed similar methods of obtaining their ends: they sought support from and

took sides in political struggles between different Hellenistic rulers according to how they

perceived the likelihood of each granting their particular requests. Mattathias, the son of

Yohanan, of the high-priestly clan of Yehojarib, and his five sons who became the

leaders of a successful Jewish revolt that eventually led to the establishment of an

independent kingdom of Judea ca. 141 BC, were different from their Jewish

contemporaries in two ways: in taking up military offensive against both Ptolemies and

Seleucids, as well as in rejecting the pacifistic stance of the Pietists, including the

endorsement of fighting in self-defense on Sabbaths in violation of the Torah. For the

latter stance they were severely criticized in later Jewish sources, but both these

attitudes may have contributed to their success. Although subsequently the Maccabees

engaged in pragmatic alliances with Rome and Sparta, in the early stages of the revolt

their novel approach of non-cooperation with the Hellenistic rulers helped to break the

gridlock of factional in-fighting among the Jews in Judea, and brought the majority of

population over to their side. Since political and religious leadership were always

isomorphic in Judea, the Maccabees hastened to follow up their military victories with

the reclaiming of the civic and religious control through the purification and rededication

of the Jerusalem temple in 165 BC.

More than One Answer

In the second half of the 2nd century BC, the political and religious support of the

Maccabees and the Hasmonean dynasty was not universal among the Jewish circles. In

the aftermath of the revolt, various forms of opposition to the Hasmoneans led to the

foundation of an alternative Jewish temple at Leontopolis in Egypt by a disaffected

member of the high-priestly Oniad family who had fled from Jerusalem, and of another

temple rival to Jerusalem at Araq el-Amir in Transjordan by the Tobiad Hyrcanus, and

possibly also to the establishment of the Qumran community on the Dead Sea.

Furthermore, in the south, another Israelite shrine, at Lachish (Tell ed-Duweir) in

Idumea, was in operation from the 2nd cent BC, and in the north, the Samaritan temple at

Mt. Gerizim, at the old site of Shechem, founded after the Macedonian conquest ca. 330

BC was sometimes perceived as a counterweight to the Jerusalem cult. The existence of

these religious sites outside of Judea suggests a conception of the Jewish observance in

parallel, or even unconnected, to the Jerusalem Temple. The Maccabean revolt, and the

establishment of an independent Judea ca. 141BC, even more than the conditions of the

Hellenistic Age served as a catalyst for the renewed Jewish debates on the meaning of

proper Mosaic observance and the very definition of Jewishness, the debates that were

to serve as a foundation for the later Jewish responses to the Roman conquest and the

destruction of the Second Temple.

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Sources: J. Goldstein, I Maccabees (1976) and II Maccabees (1983). A New Translation

with Introduction and Commentary. Carden City, NY; J. Sievers, Synopsis of Greek

Sources for the Hasmonean Period: 1-2 Maccebees and Josephus, War 1 and

Antiquities 12-14 (Rome, 2001).

Select bibliography: V. Tcherikover, Hellenistic Civilization and the Jews (New York,

1985); The Cambridge History of Judaism, vol. 2 The Hellenistic Age (Cambridge, 1989);

A. Kasher, Jews and Hellenistic Cities in Eretz-Israel (Tübingen, 1990); C. Bakhos, ed.,

Ancient Judaism in its Hellenistic Context (Leiden, 2005).

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Maoz Tzur

Rabbi Geoffrey L Shisler, New West End United Synagogue

In the same way that the melody for Adir Hu has become ‘the’ Pesach song, so has the

melody to Maoz Tzur become associated with Chanukah, and although it is a very

popular song, the true origins of both the words and the tune are not certain. Let us start

with the words.

If you take the first letter of each stanza and put them together, they spell out the word

‘Mordechai.’ This is, of course someone’s name, and there are many examples in our

liturgy of people weaving their names into their own compositions. The problem here,

however, is that we cannot say with absolute certainty who this ‘Mordechai’ was. One

suggestion is that he was Mordechai ben Yitzchak Halevi, and he lived before the year

1250.

The first stanza is an introduction to the theme of the next four, which is praise to God

for having saved us from our enemies. In the second we speak of how He brought us out

from the Egyptian slavery, and in the third of our return from the Babylonian exile. The

fourth refers to our deliverance from the wicked Haman, and in the final verse we speak

of the story of Chanukah itself.

In the new Siddur of the Chief Rabbi, there appears for the very first time in the

Authorised version, an extra verse, and the heading to it says ‘Some add’ [this verse.]

It was undoubtedly added to Mordechai’s original hymn much later, and Seligman Baer,

the editor of Siddur ‘Avodat Yisrael’ (‘The Service of Israel’), which is the Siddur on

which the Rev Simeon Singer’s original Authorised Daily Prayer Book was based, does

not include it. In his commentary he says that this verse is not found in any of the ancient

Siddurim that he consulted.

This extra verse reads:

Bare your holy arm, and hasten the time of salvation.

Take retribution against the evil nation on behalf of Your servants.

For deliverance has been too long delayed, and there seems no end to the evil days.

Thrust the enemy into the darkness of death, and establish for us the seven shepherds.

(Translation taken from Chief Rabbi’s Siddur)

In his book, ‘Kitzur Shelah’ Rabbi Isaiah Horowitz, (c.1565 - 1630) writes:

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“I read in an ancient manuscript that, since the hymn [Maoz Tzur] contained references

only to the empires of Babylonia, Media and Greece, but not to Edom and Ishmael, and

none to our eventual redemption from the exile which these last two world powers

imposed upon us, another few verses were added, which refer to this, our final

deliverance, and which are to be sung to the same tune as the first five verses.”

So it would appear that there were even more than this single extra stanza written,

although today we no longer have them. Rabbi Eli Munk, in ‘The World of Prayer’ says

that extra stanzas were composed by Rabbi Moses Isserles, Rabbi Jeremiah of

Wuerzburg, Rabbi Samuel, the author of a work called Nachalah Shivah, and others.

The last line of this sixth verse -Thrust the enemy into the darkness of death, and

establish for us the seven shepherds - is difficult to understand.

The Hebrew for the first phrase is: D’chei Admon, B’tseil Tsalmon, which literally means:

‘Push away the red one into the shadows of darkness,’ and it is suggested that ‘the red

one’ - Admon - is a reference to the kingdom of Rome which was responsible for the

dispersal of the Jewish people in which we live to this day. (Esau is called Edom, and

the original nation of Rome is considered to be made up from his descendants.)

As for ‘the seven shepherds,’ the prophet Micha tells us that when the enemy will come

into the land, we shall raise against them ‘seven shepherds.’ The Talmud (Succah 52b)

says that these seven shepherds are: David, Adam, Seth, Methuselah, Abraham, Jacob

and Moses.

The Melody

As with many of our ‘traditional’ melodies, the one that we generally utilise for Maoz Tzur

is adapted from tunes that our predecessors heard, rather than being composed

especially for those words.

One of the great experts on the melodies of the Synagogue, A.Z. Idelsohn, is of the view

that it is a typical German melody. He demonstrates that some of the melodic phrases

come from a chorale by Martin Luther called ‘Nun freut Euch Ihr lieben Christen.’

However, it was not Luther’s composition since he had, in turn, adopted the tune of an

old German folk-song, So weiss ich eins was mich erfreut, das plumlein auff preyter

hyde.

What we have today is a stylized arrangement by the famous British synagogue

composer, Julius Mombach.

There is no absolute requirement to sing this melody, and many others have been

composed. Since we sing Maoz Tzur eight times at home, (not to count the number of

times we sing it in shul and in other places!) it is a nice idea to take another melody on

some of those occasions, just for a change.

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You can find a new setting from the book ‘Shiru Lo Shir Chadash’ at

www.geoffreyshisler.com, sung by Cantor Gideon Zellermeyer.

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CHANUKAH – FAQ’S Rabbi Daniel Roselaar, rabbi of Alei Tzion United Synagogue 1. When is the best time to light the Chanukah candles? The Chanukah candles should be lit as soon as possible after nightfall. However, pirsumei nisa (publicising the miracle) is an important dimension of the mitzvah and one should wait until all the members of the family are home from work and school before lighting in order that they will be able to participate in the mitzvah. 2. What about on Friday night? On Friday night the Chanukah candles must be lit earlier than usual since they cannot be lit once Shabbat has commenced. They should be lit immediately before lighting the Shabbat candles and one should make sure to use longer candles than usual so that they will burn until half-an-hour after nightfall. (Keeping the candles in the freezer helps ensure that they will burn longer!) 3. Which member of the family should light the candles? Ashkenazi practise is that all the members of the family should light their own set of Chanukah candles each evening. Even though women are not usually obliged to participate in positive time-bound mitzvot this is an exception because they shared in the events of the Chanukah story. However, in many families a husband and wife will fulfil the mitzvah jointly. Sephardim generally light just one Menorah per family – but that is far less fun! 4. If a person is in shul when the Chanukah candles are lit do they still have to light the candles at home as well? Yes. The lighting in shul is more of a public reminder than an actual fulfilment of the mitzvah. The same is true if one goes to a wedding or bar / bat – mitzvah celebration where the candles are lit – Chanukah candles still must be lit when returning home, even if it is very late. 5. Is Chanukah a Yomtov? Not in the most formal sense. Even though Hallel is recited there is no prohibition against working on Chanukah. However there is a custom that women do not do any serious work during the first half-hour that the candles are burning each evening. 6. Some shuls have electric Menorahs. Are they kosher? Such Menorahs are not kosher for fulfilling the mitzvah but work well to remind people that they need to fulfil the mitzvah. A kosher Menorah is based on the Menorah that was used in the Temple and needs a fuel and a wick. Nowadays most people tend to use candles but some people enhance the mitzvah by using olive oil which was what was used in the Temple Menorah.

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7. What should people who are away on holiday do for lighting Chanukah candles? If a person is staying in a hotel they should light the candles in their room and obviously they should make sure that they keep a careful watchful eye on the candles during the whole time that they are alight. (They can be blown out after the first half hour.) If there is a concern that a Menorah full of candles is going to set off the fire alarms and cause the hotel to be evacuated then one would be allowed to light just one candle instead of the full compliment for that night. 8. What if a person is on a long distance flight through the night. Is there any way that they can light the Chanukah candles? No – is the short answer. But if other members of the family are at home they should light the candles with the traveller in mind. 9. Where should the Chanukah candles be placed. Ideally they should be lit in a place where the members of the family, as well as passers-by, can see them. The windowsill of a front room is often a good place to put them, provided that the family will watch them there for a while. 10. When should the candles be lit at the end of Shabbat? The candles should not be lit until after the conclusion of Shabbat. In shul they are always lit before Havdalah but at home different families have different traditions – some families light them before Havdalah and some afterwards. Some families that light them afterwards use the Havdalah candle to light the Shamash candle so as to achieve two different mitzvot with the same candle.

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Why is this Chanukah so different from that Chanukah? by Maureen Kendler, Head of Educational Programming at LSJS (London School of Jewish Studies) and a member of Woodside Park United Synagogue

The Talmud asks, “What is Chanukah3?” trying to distil the exact nature of the festival. Chanukah does seem to hold a particularly affectionate place in Jewish hearts around the world. Why do we like it so much? The obvious answers are that it is not very demanding or labour intensive, all is done comfortably at home, involving a few candles and some yummy fried food. But perhaps these responses do not fully explain our special attachment to this festival. Chanukah education around the Jewish world over the last fifty years has shown considerable elasticity. In Israel, emphasis is placed on the military victory of the small Maccabean army over the large, mighty Greek army. American Charedi communities focus on the struggle of spirituality, particularism and

anti-assimilation; it stands as a warning of what happens to Jews when they mix too

closely with other cultures.

In mainstream Jewish America, the Chanukah educational narrative focuses on Judah

Maccabee as freedom fighter, linked to the importance of religious freedom. Christmas

and Chanukah are inextricably linked, commercially and culturally. When Jewish writer

Anne Roiphe in 1978 wrote an article in the New York Times entitled “Christmas Comes

to a Jewish Home” about buying a Christmas tree, she was startled by the overwhelming

response from so many distressed readers, including Rabbis offering to educate her

about Chanukah! The latter was an offer she took up. Realising she had touched a raw

nerve in her readership, the following year she wrote in Tikkun magazine:

“Now I see Chanukah as a time when, as we light the candles, we pause in awe before

the Jewish people whose survival through adversity brings light into the darkness of the

human soul. When Jews resist Christmas, we re-affirm our own separate identity.”

Like many of her New York readers, she had come to view Christmas as a persuasive

force with its seductive armoury of prettiness, tinsel and carols. Roiphe reclaims

Chanukah as a weapon for battle against this. Yet the juxtaposition and easy linkage of

Christmas and Chanukah can also be problematic. Susan Sussman’s delightfully comic

children’s book: “There's No Such Thing as a Chanukah Bush, Sandy Goldstein” written

in 1983 attempts to unravel the confused identity afflicting many American Jewish

children wanting the best of all worlds.

A puzzled Jew wrote to his Rabbi in Maryland a few years ago to ask whether he should

attend a local “Winter Luminaries” event, in which Jews and Christians gather together to

light Chanukah candles and enjoy a decorated Christmas tree. The Rabbi’s answer was

3 Babylonian Talmud (“BT”) Tracate Shabbat, 21b

17

an unequivocal “no.” He argued that it is erroneous to equate the major festival of

Christmas and the minor festival of Chanukah. He warned of inflating the status of

Chanukah only to “protect” us from the Christmas spirit. He felt the two festivals to be

theologically incompatible: the Christmas messages of goodwill, rebirth and redemption

and the Chanukah one of rejecting alien cultures and the victory of monotheism over

idolatry. That made this the least appropriate festival for inter-faith activities. His other

objection was unlikely to be such a pressing issue here, but was evidently a very real

one for Maryland: that innocent-looking events such as these are often disguised

“Fulfilled Jews” initiatives run by Messianic Jews with an agenda not to be trusted.

Chanukah in post-war Europe has had a different educational emphasis. It is intriguing

that the narrative of Hannah and her seven sons, a standard story taught to children in

this country, is not really known in America. From the time of the Crusades, this tale of

martyrdom has been widely taught across European communities.

The story exists in the Second Book of the Maccabees and is graphically retold in the

Babylonian Talmud4. It recounts the terrible suffering of Hannah, a mother forced to

watch her seven sons tortured and killed in turn, for refusing to bow down before false

gods.

After witnessing this, Hannah becomes insane and jumps to her death from a roof. It is

a terrible tale, raising all kinds of difficult questions over the value, purpose and

messages of martyrdom. Hannah as a role model is a very troubling one. Yet our

history - especially after the Shoah - inevitably connects us to such a narrative.

The songs and prayers recited on Chanukah also offer mixed messages: Al Hanisim

focuses on the avenging of our wrongs and delivering of the many to the few. Mi

yemalel carries a more overtly Messianic redemptive message, Hanerot Hallalu speaks

of miracles and holiness whilst Maoz Tzur extols our history of delivery from a series of

determined enemies.

“A great miracle happened here:” Somehow the many faces of Chanukah each reflect

the key aspect of the festival: survival. Whoever we are, wherever we find ourselves, we

can all light our candles to celebrate that with great joy and gratitude.

4 BT Gitin 57b

18

Modi’in Then and Now

Joanna Maissel, formerly a member of Kingsbury United Synagogue, originally made

Aliyah from Kingsbury 20 years ago and lives in Modi’in with her wonderful husband

(formerly a member of Wembley United Synagogue) and 3 energetic, boisterous

children.

Living in a city which is only 14 years old is a wonderful experience. I have watched this

city grow from 17,000 to 80,000 citizens in the 10 years since moving here and yet I still

feel that I am living in a large village. The city is designed so that all the main boulevards

feature wide parks and flow down to the city center where we find the Mall, train station,

swimming pool and the brand new green slopes of Park Anabe which sports a boating

lake. We have eagerly watched each of these sites being built and opened.

My family moved to this city because of its great location – almost equidistant between

Jerusalem and Tel Aviv-and due to its (then) very reasonable property prices. We live in

the Nachalim (streams) neighbourhood, where our community is a mixture of Israelis

and veteran Olim (immigrants), religious and non-religious. Modi’in is a popular location

for Olim from the UK. Shul is a very Israeli experience – fast davening to finish by

10:30am on Shabbat, followed by sumptuous Kiddushim with cholent, Kugel and herring.

Shul social activities are geared to the Israeli weather - barbecues on the beach and

clambering through tunnels on community hikes.

Modern Modi’in began as a very secular city. Many of the new residents moved away

from the religious atmosphere of Jerusalem in search of a secular city free of religious

coercion. Over the years, more religious people moved here and the population is

probably about 20% religious. Now, hardly a week goes by without another Synagogue

being opened, Sefer Torah being danced in or a new Minyan being set up. There are

thriving communities of different hues living side by side in harmony.

My children study in an experimental school for both religious and non-religious children,

similar to JFS and Solomon Wolfson (a forerunner of the Michael Sobell Sinai School in

Kenton) from my childhood. This is a new idea in a country where the education system

is split into a religious or secular divide. People are flocking to Modi’in for the

opportunity to put their children in a school which caters to both and the waiting lists are

long.

Modi’in’s modern day citizens are involved in Modi’in's past and future. Each year,

children take part in archaeological digs on Sher Hill, the site of ancient Hasmoneam

tombs. In fact, my children have found pottery and seen ancient coins being discovered.

Jump into the present and residents are voting on names for their future neighbourhoods

as well as attending demonstrations to stop a new flight path over the city. A new

neighbourhood is built and an old one is discoveredso the symbiosis of then and now

continues.

19

Ancient Modi’in is most famous for its Chanukah connections as it was the home of the

Maccabees in the Hasmonean era known for their great victory over King Antiochus in

the Second Century BCE. Each year at Chanukah the city hosts the Modi’in Heritage

Conference.

The real site of the Ancient Modi’in has yet to be found. Ongoing debates suggest either

the Arab Village of Midya, or Titora Hill which has a crusader tower built on top of ruins

from the Hasmonean period. In recent years the site of Um el Umdan was discovered,

on the Modi’in Latrun road. The discovery included an ancient synagogue, a mikveh and

remains of a Hasmonean village. Unfortunately, like with all the Modi’in archaeological

sites, a lack of funding means that these treasures are not fully discovered and the

mystery of ancient Modi’in remains just that.

More recently, the Yiftach Brigade of the then nascent Israel Defence Forces, fought

Operation Dani on Titora Hill in the 1948 War of Independence. The Israeli soldiers

fought off the Jordanian Army which left the Hill of Titora on the Israeli side until 1967

when the green line was drawn up to include the area of Modi’in Maccabim Reut after

the Six Day War of that year. Every year, Modiin holds a commemorative ceremony in

the newly named Yiftach Park and I walk down the hill from my house to show my

children the soldiers who fought for the land on which we live.

For the last four years, I was the Aliyah (moving to Israel) Coordinator for English

Speaking Olim in Modi’in. It was a wonderful opportunity to attract new Olim not just to

Israel but to a city I love. Because Modi’in is such a new city, it is still very welcoming

and each person that moves here, either Israeli or Oleh feels that they can be part of

making this city what it is. I found that British Aliyah to Modi’in has been particularly

successful, due to the willingness to integrate, knuckle down to a new life and

appreciation of their new home in the beautiful city of Modi’in.

20

The Menorah: Ancient and Modern

Rabbi Gideon D Sylvester, Tribe’s United Synagogue Israel Rabbi, lives and teaches in

Jerusalem and Efrat. He also works for Ohr Torah Stone Educational Institutions in

Efrat, Israel

British Jews love Chanukah. Survey after survey reveals that lighting the Chanukah

candles is one of the most widely observed Jewish practices. However religiously

observant we may or may not be, we still enjoy standing around the Chanukiah5 eating

latkes, exchanging gifts and singing the traditional Chanukah songs.

Sociologists and skeptics would no doubt point out that when everyone else in the

country is celebrating Christmas or Divali, Diaspora Jews sometimes feel deprived. We

need our own festivities to compensate us for our exclusion from the tree, the tinsel, the

lights and the presents, and so Chanukah developed into a major Jewish celebration.

This might seem a weak reason for practicing a mitzvah, especially since Chanukah is

so rich in meaning, yet a glance at the Talmud indicates that its not an entirely foreign

idea. The Talmud6 says that for everything that God forbade to the Jewish people, he

created an alternative which was permitted to us. While Judaism demands a certain

discipline from us, and forbids us from celebrating Christian festivals, our religion should

not be seen as an unending list of prohibitions which control our lives, draining them of

pleasure. On the contrary, Judaism offers a depth, beauty and pleasure, which all of us

can appreciate. In an age of assimilation it's crucial to highlight the most enjoyable

elements of Judaism.

Indeed, the festival of Chanukah arises from the fact that Jews stood firm against the

temptation to assimilate into a highly attractive and prevalent, foreign Greek culture. It

was our stubborn refusal to accept pagan gods and the Hellenist way of life that led the

Maccabees to struggle against the Greeks, liberate the Temple and celebrate the

miracle of the cruse of oil that lasted for eight days instead of just one.

If Jews who are committed to our faith sometimes feel left out of national celebrations,

the lighting of the very first menorah also compensated someone who felt disappointed

at his exclusion from a communal activity. Ramban7 in his commentary on the Torah8

5 “Chanukiah” describes the eight branched candelabrum which we light for Chanukah. Although

often referred to as the “Menorah”, the phrase “Menorah” more accurately describes the seven

branched candelabrum used in the Mishkan (portable desert synagogue used by the Jews after

leaving Egypt) and then later in the Temple.

6 Babylonian Talmud (BT) Chulin 109b

7 Rabbi Moses ben Nachman, 1190-1274, (aka “Ramban”) wrote a very important commentary to

the Torah.

8 See Ramban’s commentary to Bemdibar (Numbers) 8:2.

21

describes the command to light the Menorah in the Mishkan – the portable Temple used

by Jews through their travels in the desert. He suggests that Aaron, the brother of

Moses, was disappointed that alone amongst the princes of the tribes he was not

included amongst the donors to the Mishkan, but God reassured him saying: "Do not

worry, your contribution will be greater than theirs". God taught Aaron about the

Menorah that would be lit in the Temple, and showed him how even after the destruction

of the Temple, this candelabrum would be replicated in Jewish homes throughout the

world as Jews everywhere would light the Chanukah candles.

This is one of the messages of the Chanukiah. There may be moments in life where we

feel that we have been excluded, overlooked or missed out. But God reminds us that He

is always with us. In the Temple in Jerusalem, the Menorah was lit in the evening and

burned continuously but unostentatiously throughout the night. Few people would have

seen it alight for all that time, and the lights themselves were only small olive oil lamps,

but their impact was powerful. They taught our nation never to despair.

The Lubavitcher Rebbe9 was fond of teaching that a little light can dispel a lot of darkens

and that is precisely what we do when we kindle the Chanukah lights. With winter setting

in and the bleak dark winter nights getting longer, we stand with pride and proclaim that

we can break the darkness by just sending out a small warm glow of light.

In Jerusalem, we place our Chanukiot just outside the front door of our homes,

elsewhere most Jews light their candles by a window facing out to the street. Either way

though, the Chanukiah is always connected to our home. Lighting candles in the

synagogue, the streets or at parties may be beautiful and inspiring, but it does not fulfill

our obligations as candle-lighters, that can only be done at home. This teaches us that

although we often perceive the heroes of history to be those who fought on the

battlefields, there are heroes and heroines of Jewish history who may not make the

headlines, but whose contribution deserves recognition. The Chanukiah again reminds

us of the importance of those who do not necessarily get the credit they deserve. The

period of Chanukah was one of assimilation and pressure to drop our principles and

capitulate to the surrounding culture. The Maccabee warriors could have won all the

military campaigns in the world, but if our identity had been diluted, these would have

been pyrrhic victories. Only by ordinary Jews maintaining their homes as Jewish

sanctuaries could we ensure Jewish continuity and build the decent, caring Jewish

society of our dreams.

9 Rabbi Menachem Mendel Scheneerson ,1902-1994, commonly known as the “Lubavitcher

Rebbe” was a prominent Chasidic leader. Chasidism is a branch of Orthodox Judaism.

22

My teacher, Rabbi Dr Shlomo Riskin10 told us that when the former Chief Rabbi of Israel,

Rabbi Yisrael Meir Lau, was a child in a Buchenwald, the Nazi officers would come into

the bunk rooms, hand out the miniscule rations and then offer the starving inmates the

opportunity to lick out the margarine barrel. It was a brutal ceremony, as young and old

Jews scurried over to clamber into the rotating barrel for a lick which might prolong their

miserable lives. But there was one elderly man who adamantly refused to participate in

this inhuman exercise. The young Yisrael Meir Lau watched this man with amazement,

respect and honour. He even wondered if this dignified old Jew was actually Elijah the

prophet who had come to be with his people in hell. Until, one day, as the officers

brought in the barrel, even this saintly man seemed to succumb to his worst instincts,

charging over to the revolving barrel, working feverishly to scrape it out, as the Nazi

guards taunted him with their curses.

The young boy was devastated. He felt let down by the one man who had held on to a

trace of his humanity. Yisrael Meir could barely look at his former mentor who had

participated in this savage rite. But nevertheless, it was hard to contain his curiosity and

so later that evening, he glanced across at the opposite bunk where he saw the old man

fashioning the margarine into candles and a few minutes later a group of men gathered

around to witness the lighting of the very first light of Chanukah!

All this helps us to understand why the Menorah was such an apt symbol for the State of

Israel. Our country which began as a very fragile project is now a strong and powerful

state, yet its mission remains unchanged. The lights of the Menorah remind us that our

Jewish State is a vehicle for ordinary Jews to express the Jewish vision of spreading

light in the darkness and upholding the highest religious, spiritual moral and ethical

values. We may not be there yet, but the lights of the Chanukah remind us that with

pride and commitment to our mission; a little light can dispel a lot of darkness.

10 Rabbi Riskin is rabbi of the Israeli town of Efrat and chancellor of Ohr Torah Stone Institutions

in Israel – www.ohrtorahstone.org.il . Founding rabbi of the Lincoln Square Synagogue in New

York,. his column on the weekly Torah reading is in the Jerusalem Post – www.jpost.com

23

Highlights from the Jewish Museum

The new and improved Jewish Museum opened on 17 March 2010 after a £10 million

transformation, this new London landmark explores and celebrates Jewish life and

cultural diversity.

Using the newest museum technologies and groundbreaking interactive displays, the

museum tells the story of Jewish history, culture and religion in an innovative and

compelling way, engaging with people of all backgrounds and faiths to explore Jewish

heritage and identity as part of the wider story of Britain. Displayed across four

permanent galleries, you will discover a huge variety of objects, films, photography,

hands-on exhibits and personal stories that paint a rich and nuanced picture of British

Jewish life up until today, as well as exploring contemporary social issues around

immigration and settlement.

But at the heart of the museum is the collection. The Jewish Museum’s collection has

been awarded Designated status by the Museums Libraries & Archives Council – one of

only a small number in the country. This means that the collection is considered of

national importance. Particularly of interest at this time of year is the impressive array of

Chanukah lamps from all over the world and throughout the years. The gem being the

Lindo Lamp, the most important piece of Anglo-Jewish Judaica in the collection. It is the

earliest known English Chanukah lamp and one of the treasures of British Jewish

heritage. It has been in the museum collection on loan since the 1930s but the museum

has this year secured it’s future through various donations and grants which have

allowed the museum to purchase it. It was on display at the Anglo-Jewish Exhibition of

1887 – the first British exhibition of Judaica at the Victoria and Albert Museum.

It was commissioned from silversmith John Ruslen in 1709 on the marriage of Elias

Lindo to Rachel Lopes Ferreira. Elias’s father, Isaac Lindo (1638 – 1712), fled from the

Inquisition in the Canary Isles and settled in London in 1670. The Lindos became

prominent members of the early community of Spanish and Portuguese Jews in London

and founder members of Bevis Marks Synagogue, established in 1701. They also

distinguished themselves in science and literature, in charitable endowments and as

patrons of the arts. The backplate of the Chanukah lamp is chased with the figure of the

prophet Elijah fed by the ravens, in a play on Elias’ Hebrew name.

The Lindo Lamp is just one on many pieces of Jewish ceremonial art to be found in the

Judaism: A Living Faith gallery. The museum’s impressive collection of Judaica also

includes the Mocatta mantle. Despite being over two centuries old, is still in excellent

condition and the colours are still bright. Also on display are the beautiful Kandler scrolls,

these miniature scrolls that were suitable for travelling, housed in neo-classical style

silver cases where made by Kandler, silversmith to George III.

The oldest object in the collection is the medieval mikvah from the 13th century. It was

discovered in the City of London in 2001 and is believed to be the oldest surviving object

24

from the first Jewish community in England. It is one of the first objects visitors come

across in the Museum and is the start of our story – in both religious and historical terms

– mikvah is one of the first items constructed for use by a Jewish community as it is so

important in religious terms and this mikvah is a rare survival of England’s first Jewish

community in the medieval period. It dates from the late medieval period – not more than

50 years before the expulsion of the Jews, but interestingly showing that even then,

Jews still felt secure enough in medieval society to build it.

The upper floors of the museum contain History: A British Story, a gallery exploring

how and why Jewish people have come to the UK from around the world and their

experiences. Alongside the History gallery you will find The Holocaust Gallery, a

unique space which explores the impact of Nazism through the experiences and

poignant personal items of London-born Auschwitz survivor Leon Greenman OBE and

other survivors who have made their home in Britain. The new museum also houses a

Changing Exhibitions Gallery where you can view an exciting range of exhibitions,

currently Morocco: Photographs by Elias Harrus and Pauline Prior - a beautiful

photography exhibition revealing the almost forgotten Jewish community who lived in

peaceful co-existence with the Muslim population for over 1000 years.

There is also a state-of-the-art 100-seater auditorium which houses a stimulating

programme of events for all the family, from concerts to craft workshops, comedy and

talks. Plus there is also a kosher café to make your visit complete.

The only museum dedicated to a minority group, the Jewish Museum has a vital role to

play in British society and is something for the Jewish community to be proud of.

For more details, visit: www.jewishmuseum.org.uk or call 020 7284 7384. Group visits

are available – call now to book a date.

25

Chanukah: A festival of love renewed

by Rabbi Jason Demant, formerly a member of Stanmore & Cannons Park United

Synagogue and Community Director at Woodside Park United Synagogue. Rabbi

Demant is now a teacher and NLP life coach based in Jerusalem. His website is

www.jasondemant.com

There are certain Jewish practices which are truly very beloved. You might love cheese

cake on Shavuot or humantashen on Purim. For me, practically all the special foods of

the annual Pesach seder bring back childhood memories.

Of all the commandments, Rambam11 describes the chanukah lights as being an

especially beloved mitzvah. This appellation is given by Rambam to this mitzvah alone.

Indeed for me and perhaps for you too, lighting the candles and singing Maoz Zur is

indeed very special. However, how are Chanukah and its lights unique and different from

other Jewish practices, such as sitting in a succah or eating matzah?

If we are to understand Chanukah better, we need to improve our understanding of

Jewish history and some of the inner workings of the Torah.

To start our investigation we must ask a fundamental question. Namely, how does any

festival, be it Pesach, Purim, Succot, Rosh Hashanah or Yom Kippur become an official

Jewish festival in the first place?

This question becomes particularly important when we consider Purim and Chanukah

which both postdate the Torah. Furthermore, the Torah even has a clear prohibition

against the adding of extra commandments to those found in the Torah itself12. Yet,

despite this, Purim and Chanukah, although instituted by the rabbis many generations

after the revelation at Mount Sinai, are valid and legitimate festivals.

Let us start at the beginnings of Jewish national history. We became the Jewish nation

at the exodus from Egypt. This first generation, which lived in the desert experienced

slavery and freedom and revelation on Mount Sinai. Indeed the members of this

generation were not simply the beginnings of our national history, they actually defined it

for the simple reason that they were the ones who actually lived through it. We eat bitter

herbs on Pesach because this first generation felt the bitterness and torture of the

slavery of Egypt. We sit in a succah on Succot because the members of this first

generation enjoyed the shelter of the Divine clouds of glory during their life in the desert.

11 Rabbi Moses ben Maimon (1135-1204), known by the acronym “Rambam” was a great

philosopher and codifier of Jewish law. See his Mishneh Torah Hilchot Chanukah 4:12 for the

idea cited here.

12 See Devarim (Deuteronomy) 13:1 and Sefer HaChinuch mitzvah number 454.

26

Indeed our festivals are only legitimate festivals if they originated in an experience or

event which this first, paradigmatic, generation that came out of Egypt went through.

They didn’t so much celebrate because they had been commanded to, but because

celebrating was a natural continuation of having experienced God's kindness.

Contrastingly, future generations, who never experienced those actual events, can only

celebrate the event as a tradition about that event, received over time.

We can now appreciate the legitimacy of Purim. Purim, explained the rabbis, though it

occurred years after that first desert generation, was in fact not actually the adding of a

new festival at all. Rather Purim and the defeat of Haman was seen as simply a direct

continuation of the events of the desert generation, a continuation of their experience13.

The Jewish people, led by Esther, were simply continuing the Jewish battle with

Amalaik, the evil foe who confronted us in the desert after the exodus and will continue

to battle us until the end of time14.

This explanation works well for Purim but does it fit for Chanukah? How could Chanukah

be viewed as a continuation of the events experienced by the desert generation? Surely

the defeat of Antiochus by the Maccabees would constitute a completely new event in

Jewish history, far removed from anything experienced by the first generation during

their time in the desert?

Let us briefly review some of the events that Chanukah commemorates. These events

occurred during the times of the Second Temple in Jerusalem. The temple was looted

and the services stopped with the despotic Graeco-Syrian tyrant Antiochus IV ordering

an altar to the idol Zeus to be erected in the Temple in the year 167 BCE15 to further his

policy of Hellenisation. This effectively outlawed Judaism. After the Jews successfully

and miraculously rebelled against the forces of Antiochus IV, the temple was

rededicated and only one day's worth of pure oil was found.

What would be the most suitable Torah reading to mark Chanukah? It is noteworthy that

the Rabbis of the Talmud16 selected passages from Bemidbar (the book of Numbers)

chapter seven, detailing the sacrifices of dedication brought by the tribal princes, at the

inauguration of the Mishkan, the portable desert temple. According to Rashi17, Aaron

was dismayed that his tribe, Levi, was not included in the procession of those giving

13 See for example Babylonian Talmud (“BT”) Tractate Megila 10b and Tractate Chulin 139b.

14 Shemot (Exodus) 17:8-16

15 “BCE” (Before Common Era) is the Jewish equivalent of the Christian phrase “BC”.

16 See the Mishnah, BT Megila 30b

17 Rabbi Shlomo ben Yitzchak, 1040-1105, (acronym: Rashi), wrote the foremost commentary on

the Torah (Pentateuch). The commentary cited here is to Bemidbar 8:2.

27

sacrifices at the dedication of the Mishkan. Instead, Aaron was given the commandment

of lighting the Menorah in the Mishkan, which Rashi explains was meant to console

Aaron18. Other great medieval commentators on the Torah query Rashi’s explanation..

Ramban19, for example, explains that the compensation was not the lighting after the

dedication of the Mishkan but rather the lighting of the Menorah at the rededication of

the temple at the time of Chanukah. At the Chanukah dedication, the Menorah was not

incidental to the re-institution of the temple service, rather the dedication occurred

through the very lighting of the Menorah itself, by Aaron’s descendants.

Unlike Purim, the lighting of the oil at the rededication of the temple as commemorated

by Chanukah was not a way to connect back to the experiences of the desert generation

but instead acted to bypass history entirely. The Lighting of the Menorah restarted

history, restarting the circle, by recreating the effects of the paradigmatic desert

generation there and then. Like a beloved couple separated, God and the Jewish people

came back together, united by the rededication of the temple. The union brought about

after a period of separation was indeed more beloved than previously. It was considered

as if the Jewish people had returned to that very first generation again.

Let us compare for a moment the Chanukah lights to other commandments. Consider

eating matzah or making Kiddush on Friday night. These commandments are symbolic

of events that took place, namely the Exodus and the Shabbat of creation respectively

and are certainly not those events themselves. Matzah symbolizes slavery but eating

matzah is not the same as experiencing slavery. Kiddush commemorates how God

rested on Shabbat, but it is not that rest itself. Chanukah candles, however, are not

symbolic. Without the revolt and the miracle of the oil there would not have been a

rededication of the Temple at all. The very fact that we have the ability to light candles

today is due to that dedication. Being able to light, free of the Graeco-Syrian tyranny is

itself the miracle we are celebrating.

When we light the candles on Chaunkah, those magical lights are really an annual

rededication of the Jewish people. The lights remove us from the fetters of history and

bring us back to that generation which experienced the kindness of God in the desert at

first hand. Love is beyond time. Rambam wrote that lighting Chanukah candles is an

especially beloved mitzvah since through kindling those lights, the Jewish people and G-

d come close together in a way that is only possible after final satisfying a deep longing

to find, once again, closeness with God’s Presence.

18 See Rashi ibid.

19 Rabbi Moses ben Nachman, 1194-1270 (acronym: Ramban) ibid, wrote a seminal commentary

to the Torah, with particular emphasis on themes.

28

Chanukah: Is it time to party?

Rabbi Andrew Shaw, director of United Synagogue Living and Learning, Community

Rabbi of Stanmore and Cannons Park United Synagogue

One of the major differences between Chanukah and Purim is that feasting is intrinsic to

Purim only, not to Chanukah20.

At first glance, this may seem puzzling. Both festivals celebrate the salvation of the

Jewish people so why should only one of them need to have a party?

As you will find explained elsewhere in this Chanukah guide, Chanukah (as well as

Purim) is a post-Biblical festival. As the Bible could not give us specific guidance on how

to celebrate either festival, the Rabbis of the Talmud, who fixed the cohesive frameworks

of Jewish observance familiar to us today, had to decide how we should best

commemorate Chanukah and Purim in a way that would be consistent and

straightforward for Jews wherever they would be.

The Rabbis looked at what underpinned Chanukah and the major factors that should be

commemorated. Our foes in the Chanukah story did not want to kill us physically, other

than when we rose up against them. Instead, they wanted to kill us spiritually by

eradicating Judaism. Therefore, we highlight (no pun intended!) the spiritual victory by

lighting the Chanukah candles and singing accompanying songs, such as Haneirot

Halalu and Maoz Tzur which, whilst not ignoring our miraculous military victory, focus

more on the spiritual triumph of the survival of Judaism21.

Although “special” eating is not mandatory on Chanukah, various “delicious” customs

involving eating have of course arisen around Chanukah. However those of you

pursuing healthier diets will no doubt be pleased to hear that there is no obligation to eat

doughnuts or latkes, although you could go for sprinkling olive oil on a salad instead!

Nonetheless, the primary focus of the Chanukah commemoration is spiritual; you will

find further discussion of this theme in the rest of this guide.

Chanukah parties are fun and a great way to celebrate the festival. They are, however,

secondary to the lighting (I should take this opportunity, whilst talking parties, to invite

you to the United Synagogue’s “Chanukah on Ice” on Sunday 5 December from 3.30pm-

5.30pm at the Tower of London. Further details from www.tribeuk.com )

20 See Shulchan Aruch (Code of Jewish Law, written in the sixteenth century by Rabbi Joseph

Caro of Safed, Israel), Laws of Chanukah, section “Orach Chayim” 670:2

21 See Mishna Berura (19

th/20

th century commentary to the Shulchan Aruch written by Rabbi

Yisrael Mein Kagan, 1838-1933, also known as “Chafetz Chaim” ) comment number 6 and Aruch

Hashulchan (19th century work of Jewish law written by Rabbi Yechiel Michel Epstein, 1829-1908)

comment number 9 ibid.

29

Contrastingly, on Purim, our enemies wanted to destroy us physically and would not

have stopped even if we had offered to abandon Judaism. Therefore, the Rabbis of the

Talmud instituted a more physical celebration through feasting. This helps us to

appreciate the physical survival of Purim.

As we light the Chanukah candles this year, let us remember how Judaism survived the

Chanukah encounter and appreciate how this should inspire us as Jews today. Whether

you have a Chanukah party or not, Chanukah is as good a time as any to bring some

light into people’s lives – yourself as well as others.

Have a very meaningful and happy Chanukah.

30

“Haneirot Halalu – these are the lights”

By Rabbi Michael Laitner, Education Coordinator of the United Synagogue’s Living and

Learning Programme; assistant rabbi at South Hampstead United Synagogue

After we kindle the first Chanukah light, we recite a short prayer entitled “Haneirot Halalu

– these are the lights”. The translation of Haneirot Halalu below is by Chief Rabbi Lord

Sacks in the latest version of the Authorised Daily Prayer Book (“Singers”). It reads as

follows:

We light these lights because of the miracles, deliverances and wonders You performed

for our ancestors through Your holy priests. Throughout the eight days of Chanukah

these lights are holy and we are not permitted to make any other use of them, except to

look at them that we may offer thanks to Your name for Your miracles, Your

deliverances and Your wonders.

Haneirot Halalu does not concentrate on the Chanukah story per se. Instead, its focus is

on the message of the candles and the prohibition to make other use of the candles. We

shall briefly discuss aspects of the origins of Haneirot Halalu and how it found its place in

the Chanukah lighting proceedings.

Historical background

Haneirot Halalu first appears in the eighth century work Masechet Soferim22. This work

was compiled in the Land of Israel well after the completion of the Talmud; Haneirot

Halalu is not referred to in the Talmud, either the Babylonian or Jerusalem versions23.

22 See Masechet (Tractate) Soferim 20:6 in the Rubinstein edition. Masechet Soferim, although

written long after the editing of the Talmud, is found as one of the “Masechtot Ketanot” (small

tractates) at the end of Masechet Avoda Zara in many editions of the “Vilna Shas” (Vilna edition

of the Talmud).

23 See Rabbi Professor Daniel Sperber’s comprehensive and fascinating Hebrew article on

Haneirot Halalu in his Minhagei Yisrael, volume 5, chapter 2 (Mosad HaRav Kook, Jerusalem,

1995).

31

Although many Midrashim24 were compiled in Israel around this time, the major centre of

Jewish life then was Babylon and the major religious influences on the Jewish world

were the rabbis of Babylon, known as the Geonim. The Geonim corresponded with

Jewish communities all over the Jewish world, being instrumental in the maintenance,

development and application of Jewish law – applying the law to the facts as the world

changed, just as rabbis do today. Their influence was enormous. As just one example,

our Siddur (prayer book) today is to a large extent based on a Siddur written by Rav

Amram Gaon25, at the request of the Spanish community.

This is particularly noteworthy for two reasons. The first is that since the Chanukah story

took place around the years 168-165 BCE26, Jews celebrated Chanukah for hundreds of

years without saying Haneirot Halalu. The second is that since Haneirot Halalu did not

originate in Babylon, it may have seemed unlikely that it would have been accepted into

the Chanukah liturgy by Jews all over the world, rather only by Jews in Israel and those

minority number of Diaspora Jews who followed the Land of Israel’s halachic (Jewish

law) rulings rather than the Babylonian halachic rulings. Yet, despite this, Haneirot

Halalu was accepted into the Chanukah liturgy. When did this happen and why?

Halachic background

One of the most authorative codifications of Jewish law is a work called the Arba’ah

Turim – the four pillars - (often known simply as “the Tur”27), written by Rabbi Yaakov

ben Asher of Toledo, Spain, in the early 14th century.

To our surprise, given its previous absence from Halachic discussion, the Tur quotes the

aforementioned reference in Masechet Soferim adding that both his father (Rosh – see

footnote 6) and his father’s teacher (Maharam MiRotenburg – see footnote 6) were

24 Midrash refers to religious messages that Rabbis expounded from the Torah – hence the word

Derasha which today often refers to a sermon given in the synagogue. For more on Midrash, see

Rabbi Dr Irving Jacobs’ works The Midrashic Process and The Impact of Midrash as well as Simi

Peters’ book Learning to Read Midrash.

25 A 9

th century rabbinic scholar who headed the famous yeshiva/academy of Sura in Babylon.

26 BCE=”Before Common Era”, the Jewish equivalent of “BC”.

27 This work was written by Rabbi Yaakov ben Asher, 1270-1340. It focuses on practical Jewish

law and is divided into four “pillars” (sections) which became the basIS for the celebrated Beit

Yosef compilation and the Shulchan Aruch (Code of Jewish Law) which were both written by

Rabbi Joseph Caro, 1488-1575. The Tur draws heavily on the halachic (legal) decisions of Rabbi

Yaakov’s father, Rabeinu Asher (acronym: Rosh). Rosh started his life in Germany and was a

student of the famed Rabbi Meir of Rotenburg (known as “Maharam miRotenburg”). Due to

persecution, Rosh and his family fled south towards Spain, eventually settling in Toledo, where

the Tur was written (and where Rabbi Caro was later born).

32

accustomed to say Haneirot Halalu. This is confirmed by Rosh28 and another significant

medieval halachist, the Mordechai29 who both note that they had heard that Maharam

MiRotenburg said Haneirot Halalu30. Tur provides no other information as to how

Hanierot Halalu entered the Chanukah liturgy.

Maharam MiRotenburg was perhaps the towering Rabbinic figure of the Ashkenazi world

in the 13th century. His recitation of Haneirot Halalu would provide strong support for its

entry in the Chanukah liturgy, given the respect his scholarship and religious devotion

earned in the Ashkenazi world.

Suggestions as to what lay behind the adoption of Haneirot Halalu in the 13th

century

Why though might Maharam MiRotenburg have adopted a text from Masechet Soferim,

given the historical and halachic background outlined above?

The primary fulfilment of the mitzvah of lighting Chanukah candles is performed by

lighting the first candle on any particular night of Chanukah. Accordingly, we have

already completed this primary fulfilment by the time we recite Haneirot Halalu! Rabbi Dr

Jeffrey Cohen31 suggests that the wording of Haneirot Halalu is not related to the

observance of kindling lights per se but rather adjures us not to make use of the

Chanukah lights for any purpose other than contemplating the miracles of Chanukah. In

an age before electricity, when illuminating the house was expensive, Siddurim (prayer

books) to recite Chanukah prayers or songs were in short supply and when people may

not have known all of the Chanukah prayers, Haneirot Halalu reminds us of the purpose

of the Chanukah candles so that we do not use the Chanukah lights for any purpose

other than contemplation. This prohibition includes using the Chanukah candles to read

words of prayer.

Rabbi Cohen further suggests that the recitation of Haneirot Halalu followed the

composition of Maoz Tzur32 in the 13th century and its growing popularity subsequently.

28 See commentary of Rosh to Masechet Shabbat, chapter 2, section 8.

29 Rabbi Mordechai ben Hillel, 1240 – 1298, (often known after his commentary as ‘the

Mordechai’) was a prominent German halachist. See his commentary to Masechet Shabbat,

section 263.

30 Other versions of Haneirot Halalu, with small changes from the version in the Singers Siddur,

appear in the works of other Rishonim (medieval halachic authorities). Rabbi Professor Daniel

Sperber employs his customary encyclopaedic style as he lists and analyses these versions in his

article referred to in footnote 2 above.

31 Rabbi Cohen is consultant rabbi of Hampstead Garden Suburb United Synagogue. See his

500 Questions and Answers on Chanukah, Vallentine Mitchell, 2005, pages 165-166.

32 A popular Chanukah song sang after candle lighting

33

As the Chanukah liturgy expanded from merely reciting berachot (blessings), the

possibility of using the Chanukah candles to read Maoz Tzur occasioned the need for

the cautionary recitation of Haneirot Halalu.

Rabbi Professor Daniel Sperber33suggests an additional reason for the adoption of

Haneirot Halalu in the 13th century by referring to a pertinent halachic dispute which still

raged from the 12th century.

12th century Provencal rabbinic scholars, rabbis such as Rabbi Zerachia HaLevi34,

permitted benefiting from the Chanukah lights for “holy” purposes (we might call these

“Mitzvah purposes today”). Other rabbinic scholars disagreed. This is not unusual.

Jewish law, like many other legal systems, applies the law to the facts as noted above.

Just as competent judges in an English court may come to different conclusions in a

case when applying the law to the facts, so too do halachic scholars.

Maharam MiRotenburg may have felt, suggests Rabbi Sperber, that the view of the

Provencal scholars was erroneous and that no use of the Chanukah candles was

permitted, even for mitzvah use. The candles could only be used for contemplation of

the Chanukah miracles.

By instituting the recitation of Haneirot Halalu into the Chanukah liturgy, Maharam

MiRotenburg showed his opposition to the view of the Provencal rabbinic scholars. His

view proved persuasive amongst other rabbinic scholars, hence the incorporation of

Haneirot Halalu into the Chanukah liturgy, plus the halachic writings of Tur and the other

scholars mentioned above, as well as into the Shulchan Aruch (Code of Jewish law)35.

To borrow loosely a phrase from Rabbi Dr Irving Jacobs36, Haneirot Halalu became

another example of the “ritualised theology” employed by the rabbis in the compilation of

the Siddur; an effective way to confirm Jewish beliefs or practices is to put those beliefs

or practices into the Siddur, since it is used on a daily basis.

33 In his aforementioned article, cited in footnotes 2 and 9 above. See page 24 for these

particular suggestions. Born in Wales, Rabbi Sperber is professor of Talmud at Bar Ilan

University in Israel and a prolific author.

34 Rabbi Zerachya haLevi, 1125-1186, was a prominent halachist and Talmudist.

35 See section Orach Chayim, 676:4. For more information about the Shulchan Aruch, see

footnote 6 above.

36 Rabbi Jacobs, former principal of Jews College, is rabbi of the Neve Shalom Synagogue in

Wembley.

34

An alternative view for the incorporation of Haneirot Halalu, is provided by the great 19th

century authority, Rabbi Yechiel Michel Epstein37, who notes that the recitation of

Haneirot Halalu adds to pirsumei nisa, awareness of the Chanukah miracle.

Presumably, since the requirement of pirsumei nisa applies throughout the period of time

that the candles are lit, it is perfectly in order to recite Haneirot Halalu after the kindling

of the first candle since pirsumei nisa is an ongoing requirement, not satisfied with the

kindling of the first candle.

Conclusion

We have seen that Haneirot Halalu originated in Masechet Soferim and appeared

neither in the Babylonian of Jerusalem Talmudim, nor works of the Geonim. It seems to

have eventually entered the Chanukah liturgy in a more widespread fashion in the 13th

century, primarily due to Maharam MiRotenburg and his students. A need to avoid

unauthorised use of the Chanukah lights, even for Mitzvah purposes, may lay behind the

incorporation of Haneirot Halalu, as suggested by Rabbis Cohen and Sperber. Rabbi

Epstein views the recitation of Haneirot Halalu as an aide to fulfilling the requirement of

pirsumei nisa.

Although there is far more to say about Haneirot Halalu, I hope that this brief survey

helps us all to appreciate its significance more profoundly. I hope we can also further

our appreciation of contemplating the Chanukah lights along with the fascinating

applications of Jewish law and philosophy that lay behind the Siddur. I wish you a happy

Chanukah.

37 Rabbi Yechiel Michel Epstein, 1829-1908, was perhaps most famously rabbi of the town of

Navarduk and author of the monumental halachic work Aruch Hashulchan. The citation referred

to here is in Orach Chayim, 676:8.

35

The Chanukah Berachot and Hanerot Hallalu

ברכות חנוכה ונרות הללו

Dov Lerner, a member of Belmont United Synagogue and a United Synagogue Rabbinic

intern, is studying for Rabbinic ordination at Yeshiva University in New York whilst

pursuing a degree in English literature at the same institution

1.

The Shamash is lit, and while the Shamash is held, the following blessing is recited.

. חנוכה)של (אשר קדשנו במצוותיו וציונו להדליק נר, אלקינו מלך העולם' ברוך אתה ה

Blessed are you, Lord our God, King of the Universe, who has made us holy

through His commandments, and has commanded us to light the Chanukah

candle (the candle of Chanukah).

We begin the Chanukah service with a series of blessings. Despite the Rabbinic nature

of this festival, it has been embedded in the system of Jewish practice, rooted in Jewish

ritual, to the extent that it warrants and demands a blessing. We have been directed to

follow the guidance of our Sages, and when, thousands of years ago, the Great Court

established this Mitzvah, it entered the fabric of Jewish consciousness and we

comfortably and confidently recite; “we have been commanded to light the Chanukah

candle”.

Based on Talmudic inconsistency and Rabbinic multiplicity various versions of this

blessing have arisen. Many texts have the blessing concluding “to light the Chanukah

candle”38, while, as indicated above, some have “the candle of Chanukah”39. Rabbi

Solomon Luria40, however, felt drawn by both strains and contended that the correct

version is “Ner Shel Chanukah”, a phrase that loses its force in translation; where the

translation “candle of Chanukah” is retained, the words are fused together to capture the

notion of ‘Chanukah candle’. At first flush this distinction seems rather minute. Beyond

simple semantics, what difference lies between the ‘Chanukah candle’ and the ‘candle of

38 Shulchan Aruch (Code of Jewish Law) section “Orach Chayim” 676:1

39 Rabbi Moses ben Maimon, 1135-1204, Mishneh Torah, Laws of Chanukah 3:4

40 Rabbi Shlomo Luria, 1510-1574, Responsa number 85

36

Chanukah’? And why does Rabbi Luria feel compelled to construct a grammatically

erroneous phrase in order to bridge the two?

The difference is a fine one, one that could be easily, and regretfully, missed. On the one

hand, candles are not uncommon in Jewish ritual. We have candles appearing for

Shabbat, for Yom Tov, for Havdalah, for the pre-Pesach search, and more recently for

Yartzeit. All instances are independent and have their own thrust, but through their

mutual linkage connect to each other. The light on each occasion blends into an image

that draws our attention to other sacred moments, other significant instances. The

presence of the candle presents us with an awareness of context and perspective;

where in the progression of time does Chanukah fall, with what does it parallel and

differ? The candle as an object shifts through time and appears anew, carrying with it the

significance that each event attaches to it. This is the candle that is affixed and

appended to various times and various places; this is the ‘candle of Chanukah’.

But is the appearance of these candles simply another appearance, another context in

which we find the candles used for Shabbat or Yom Tov? Are the candles a convenient

and typical backdrop to this festival, a cliché of sacred time? It could be, as explained by

Rabbi Chayim Margulies41, that the Chanukah flames stand alone; they encompass a

new and distinct identity, they flicker on a plane far removed, remote from other festivals.

These pockets of warmth contain within their image the character of the Temple

candelabrum, these waves of light emit the spirit of the Sanctum from their centre. Firmly

planted in their purpose is the memory of military victory, the celebration of God’s

intervention, the strength of the weak over the powerful. These are not simply the

‘candles of Chanukah’, but they are the ‘Chanukah candles’.

Perhaps it was this duality, this bridging between generality and singularity that brought

Rabbi Luria to combine the two texts. With the blessing holding two words as one, we

forge a moment that stands, at once, as a part of and apart from the rest of Jewish time.

41 Sha’arei Teshuva 676:1. Sha’arei Teshuva is a commentary of the Orach Chayim section of

the Shulchan Aruch (see footnote 1 above) written by Rabbi Chaim Mordechai Margaliyot.

37

2.

The Shamash still held, the following blessing is recited. On the first night continue with

the next blessing. On all other nights: upon completion of this blessing the Chanukah

candles are lit ( א"רמ )42.

.בימים ההם בזמן הזה, שעשה נסים לאבותינו, אלקינו מלך העולם' ברוך אתה ה

Blessed are you, Lord our God, King of the Universe, who performed miracles for

our father in those days, at this time.

This blessing appears only twice in the Jewish lexicon; at Chanukah and Purim. That

being said a very similar blessing appears in the Talmud43 in the section that specifically

discusses unusual blessings. Upon returning to a location where a personal or

communal miracle took place, one recites “Blessed are you...who performed miracles for

our fathers in this place”. It seems that with these miracles one doesn’t, in the first

instance, recollect salvation at the temporal anniversary but the spatial one. The miracle

is constricted not to a moment in time, but to an area in space.

The miracles of Chanukah (and Purim) somehow transcend space; they cannot be

contained or constricted to a particular location or precinct. In the same way that Tisha

B’Av stands as a memorial in time, Chanukah stands as a monument in time. This, in

turn, tells us about time.

An old textual version of this blessing reads ‘who performed miracles for our fathers in

those days and at this time’. All authorities reject this version and omit the word ‘and’; we

conclude ‘who performed miracles for our fathers in those days, at this time’. What is the

significance of this omission?

Jewish time returns. When Chanukah appears on the calendar our minds are filled, in

Marcel Proust’s words, with “gusts of memories”. We are drawn back to childhood

anticipation. These days, those candles, are not entirely unfamiliar, nothing is. To a

42 Ruling of Rabbi Moses Iserlis, 1530-1572, of Cracow, Poland, (acronym: Rema) was an

outstanding halachist. Rema wrote notes to the Shulchan Aruch (see footnote 1 above), stating

where Ashkenazi practice differed from the Sefaradi practice described in the Shulchan Aruch.

43 BT (Babylonian Talmud) Berachot 54a

38

degree we have been taught to view history as lost, all vestige of the past as gone. Each

day is fresh and unmarked; it has never been visited before, and shall never be felt

again. The Jewish tradition, as buttressed by this blessing, sees time not as a line, but

as a spiral. Each day is imbued with the meaning of that which has taken place on it in

the past, while at the same time eager to host that which lies in store for its future. As we

stand and sing, as we recall the miracles of the past, we hear the cries of victory, we

smell the sweat of battle, we see the Menorah in the Temple. A wave of comprehension

sweeps our consciousness as we become acutely aware; we have been here before.

3.

This blessing is recited only on the first night; upon its completion the candle is lit.

.שהחיינו וקיימנו והגיענו לזמן הזה, אלקינו מלך העולם' ברוך אתה ה

Blessed are you, Lord our God, King of the Universe, who has given us life,

sustained us, and brought us to this time.

This blessing appears often; every festival, every recurring Mitzvah, every time we do

anything with novelty44. This ranges from eating new fruit to buying new clothing to

hearing good news to seeing a long lost friend. There are times when this blessing is

conspicuously absent, for example when we count Sefirat Ha’Omer (“the Omer”)

between Pesach and Shavuot. Many reasons are presented for this exception, however

one in particular is perhaps most relevant for our discussion.

Rabbi Nissim of Gerona45, a fourteenth century Jewish scholar, suggested that the

blessing in question is only recited when there is a measure of happiness or perceived

benefit. When one waves the Lulav one partakes of pure joy—Simcha—at the time of

joy, when one blows the Shofar on Rosh Hashanah one is in direct appeal to God, but

when one counts the Omer one is acutely aware of the vacuum that fills Temple mount.

We only bless novelty, according to Rabbi Nissim, when that novelty brings blessing to

us.

44 For example see Shulchan Aruch, Orach Chayim chapter 225.

45 In his commentary at end of Masechet (Tractate) “Pesachim” of the Babylonian Talmud. Rabbi

Nissim, 1320-1380, wrote an important Halachic commentary of the Babylonian Talmud

39

Why exactly do we bless novelty? Would be it not be more sensible to await the results,

to, in hindsight, rate the experience from an educated angle? Why do we halt all

movement to bless this moment, having not even begun to live through it yet?

Rabbi Yaacov Etlinger46 (1798) of Germany presents a radical understanding of this

blessing. The content does not seem to celebrate the new moment directly—after all the

text could have been, ‘Blessed are you...who has given us this new moment’—the focus

of the blessing seems in fact to be the past, ‘Blessed are you...who has given us life,

sustained us, and brought us to this time’. We are more concerned with the journey that

has brought us to this moment rather than the moment itself. Rabbi Etlinger47 suggests

that “this blessing is irrelevant unless there was a reasonable concern that the person

would have died between this time and the previous one. Meaning that if from the time at

which one began to anticipate the return of this moment (i.e. last Chanukah) there was a

concern as to whether one would survive until its return, and one did, then one must give

thanks”.

According to Rabbi Etlinger, we prepare for the Mitzvah. We make two blessings, one

relating to the lighting itself, one recalling the miracles that took place, and then just as

we reach out to light the candles, just as the Mitzvah that we have been building towards

is about to be performed, we stop. We close our eyes for a moment and take a deep

breath, and thank God for the last year. This blessing on novelty is unconcerned with the

coming moment, whether it is over a new fruit, an old friend, or a new suit, it is purely

concerned with the past. We cast our minds to all the fear filled moments that we have

survived, all the panics and anxieties that have abated, all the dread that was unfounded

and the terror that was endured; we have made it. With this sense of humility and

appreciation we thank God, and we are now ready to engage with a new Mitzvah.

If we combine these two suggestions—Rabbi Nissim’s notion that the new moment

brings us blessing, and Rabbi Etlinger’s idea that the moment makes us consider the

last year—we are left with a blessing of great significance, a moment of inner motion.

46 Rabbi Etlinger, 1798-1871, was a leading German rabbi who wrote a significant Talmudic

commentary in addition to halachic writings.

47 In his commentary to BT Succah, 46

40

Inasmuch as we invest Chanukah with meaning, Chanukah invests meaning in us. We

do not sit on the periphery of this moment and witness its grandeur from the outside,

blessing it as if seen from afar; we stand in the midst of this moment, absorbed by it and

engaged with it. As we take note of the external shift, the onset of winter and the arrival

of Chanukah, let us be sure to notice the internal drama, the appreciation of our own

presence and the elation of Chanukah celebration. As the lights shine brightly toward the

street let us feel the internal warmth of our hearts, as Chanukah penetrates our beings

let us fill with gratitude and pride.

On all nights, after lighting the first candle recite the following passage; many sing this

passage.

הנרות הללו אנו מדליקין

על התשועות ועל המלחמותו על הניסים ועל הנפלאות

שעשית לאבותינו בימים ההם בזמן הזה

.על ידי כוהניך הקדושים

הנרות הללו קודש הם, וכל שמונת ימי חנוכה

בלבדםאלא לראות, ואין לנו רשות להשתמש בהם

כדי להודות ולהלל לשמך הגדול

.על נפלאותיך ועל ישועותיךעל ניסיך ו

We light these candles

because of the miracles and wonders,

deliverances and victories,

You performed for our ancestors in those days, at this time,

through your holy priests.

Throughout the eight days of Chanukah, these candles are holy

And we are not permitted to make any use of them, except to look at them,

that we may give thanks and praise to Your great name

for Your miracles, Your wonders, and Your deliverances

Hanerot Hallalu, a short passage first found in an old text called Masechet Soferim48,

begins, “We light these candles”. The injunction to light Chanukah candles is remarkably

48 An eigth century work, written in the Land of Israel, which has a focus on matters related to

prayer.

41

rare in its nature, not simply for its Rabbinic origin, but for its familial context. In general,

the commandments are incumbent either on the individual person or on the community.

Obligations such as wearing Tefillin and making Kiddush on Shabbat apply to individuals

and requirements such as reading the Torah and bringing sacrifices to the Temple fall

upon the community as a whole. Very rarely is there a unit of significance found between

the individual and the community, the ‘I’ and the ‘We’.

With Chanukah we are presented with an ‘us’, the family – perhaps change to ‘a

household’ or as a mitzvah incumbent on a dwelling. The primary passage in the

Talmud49 that relates to Chanukah begins its discussion with the phrase, “The Mitzvah of

Chanukah is the candle of each Man and his household.”

Bearing this in mind, we turn to one phrase in Hanerot Hallalu, in this complex passage,

that stands out from the rest: “These candles are holy, and we aren’t permitted to make

any use of them, except to look at them.” In the midst of victory, at the crux of

celebration, we pause and stand at a distance. We look but cannot touch. The flames

flicker playfully, they consume their fuel slowly and quietly, their reflections beckon to us

from beyond the window, and we stand in song and then in silence and just look. Rabbi

Joseph Soloveitchik50 once put it as follows, “Ner Chanukah...is lit not to illuminate, but

to address itself to us from the vast, dark spaces...Ner Chanukah is a ner ha-nir’eh me-

rachok, a remote light”51.

We spend much of our lives looking beyond our reach. Our minds fill with images from

around the globe; from warzones to refugee camps, from tsunami survivors to starving

children, from flash floods to murderous rampages. Our minds eye is blinded by visions

of death and destruction that we are powerless to change. As tears fill our eyes and we

shield our children from the visual carnage, as we shout, appalled, at the television

49 BT Shabbat 21b

50 Rabbi Dr Joseph B.Soloveitchik, 1903-1993, was an outstanding Talmudist, halachist and

philosopher who headed Yeshivat Rabeinu Yitzchak Elchanan of Yeshiva University in New York

and the Maimonides High School in Boston, Mass.

51 P.177, Days of Deliverance, ed. Eli.D Clark, Joel B,Wolowelsky and Reuven Ziegler , New

York, 2007

42

screen, at our friends, outraged by the atrocities that befall humankind, we are most

angered by our distance. What can we do?

As people lie bleeding to death, our cabinets sit full of plasters and bandages, as young

children, pure and innocent, sit with their stomachs cramping from hunger, our shelves

are stacked with all sorts of foods. How can we bear to sympathize? How much longer

can we empathize? For how long can we stand useless and powerless in the face of

such suffering?

It is just at this moment in time, in the depth of winter, as nature has died and the world

conspires against us, that we are confronted by the image of distance; ‘we cannot use

them, only see them’. This image forces our attention inward, we are redirected from the

global to the local, from the community to the home, to “each person and household”.

It is when nature is rendered impotent that we are charged with our capacity. We look

around us, we see our families and our friends, our colleagues and our neighbours,

those whose lives we can improve, those whom we have the power to move and impact,

those within our reach.

But as our hearts swell with passion and we reach out to those we love, we do so with

an acute awareness of those who are in need of love, those who cannot be reached.

Chanukah, of all the festivals, is the one of supreme public awareness, with the entire

Mitzvah of candle lighting predicated on the notion of ‘Pirsumei Nissa’ – publicising the

miracle. This inflection can also be seen through the Halachic requirements of the

lighting itself; primarily its location and timing. The Talmud in one place52 points to the

perfect timing as when there are people on the streets, and elsewhere53 the doorway is

indicated as the preferable location for the candles; it must stand in the most visible

position at the most visible time.

52 BT Shabbat 21b

53 Masechet Soferim 20:3

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It is not simply that the candles must be at the most visible place, but they sit on the

boundary. We pass them as we enter and we pass them as we leave, they condition our

consciousness and mould our emotions as we move through life, whether in the realm of

the private, of influence, or whether the realm of the public, the universal and global

sphere. The timing is not at the peak of rush hour, but “until all feet have left the market

place”. It is not just that we want our flames to glimmer outside, but we want those

outside to carry the image with them, to bring it home.

Chanukah puts us on the border, the very threshold between what is in our power and

what is not, what is within our reach and what is beyond our ability. On the one hand we

are drawn inward, directed to our ‘household’, while on the other our attention is to the

world outside, those unknown, faceless members of the public. Our warmth, our light

shines equally on both.

If we turn for just a moment to the “Man of the Menorah”, the man who perhaps best

represents the burning candles, we sense this very same tension; the Biblical figure,

Aaron the high priest and brother of Moses54. On the one hand, Aaron was an indoor

person; he was insular and contained, quiet and collected, he stood as the head of the

priestly order inside the Mishkan, the portable Temple in the desert. The Sanctuary was

an exclusive location, a pure and restricted location; the Temple was a private and

personal space.

On the other hand if we look to our Sages portrait of Aaron we are presented with a

radically different picture; Aaron was a man “who loved peace and chased peace”55.

Aaron was a man unsatisfied with silence, unhappy with simply being here, always on

the move, always chasing opportunities for more.

As we stand in song looking contently into the flickering glow of the Chanukah candles,

we engage both this drives, we strive to maintain this tension. We recall that it is “we”

who light the candles, but we also recall those that we can see but not touch. We

54 see the commentaries of Rabbi Shlomo ben Yitzchak, 1040-1105,(acronym: Rashi) and Rabbi

Moshe ben Nachman, 1190-1274 (acronym:Rambam) to Bemidbar (Numbers) 8:2

55 BT Sanhedrin 6b

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remember how God granted salvation to our ancestors, to us; we joyfully celebrate how

He helped the weak against the strong, the pure against the impure, and the few against

the many. At this time we extend our natural embrace to our families and friends, to the

“us” of Chanukah, yet we cast our minds to those beyond our scope. We think of those

minorities still brutalised by the many, those weak still abused by the strong; we bless

the candles and thank God for how he has blessed us, in the hope and with the prayer,

that he spreads that blessing to others.

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AL HANISSIM FOR CHANUKAH

by Rabbi Philip Ginsbury, formerly of South London United Synagogue

The Al Hanissim prayer for Chanukah is appropriately inserted into the blessing of

thanksgiving in the Amidah and similarly in Birkat Hamazon56.

In common with all prayers celebrating national deliverance and victory over our

enemies (compare the Shirat Ha-yam57 and the Song of Deborah58) we ascribe the

success to G-d’s intervention. At the same time, the heroism of Mattathias and his sons

in their fight for religious freedom against the Hellenistic Syrians is also acknowledged.

The prayer is beautifully constructed, with a series of similar sounding phrases that give

it a sense of rhythmic poetry.

The Hasmonean “guerrillas” faced two adversaries – the Syrians who demanded

uniformity of belief (in idolatry) and the large Hellenistic element among the Jews who

wanted to reach an accommodation with them. So the reference to G-d delivering “the

strong into the power of the weak and the many into the hands of the few” refers to the

Maccabees overcoming their external enemy – and “the impure into the power of the

pure and arrogant into the hands of the Torah observant” is speaking of the triumph of

the faithful Jews over the assimilated elements amongst them, who eventually became

baalei teshuva59.

Why did the Hasmoneans light the Menorah in the courtyard of the Temple, and not

inside? According to Chatam Sofer60, so that everyone could witness the miracle, not

just the Cohanim.

56 Grace after meals.

57 Song at the Sea (see Exodus chapter 15).

58 See Book of Judges chapter 5.

59 Religious returnees.

60 Rabbi Moshe Sofer, 1762-1838, (also known as “Chatam Sofer”), was a prominent Halachist

and Talmudist, especially famous for his rabbinate in Pressburg.

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Chanukah and the Enemy Within

Rabbi Yisroel Fine, Cockfosters & North Southgate Synagogue

Of the many festivals observed by the Jewish People; apart from those mentioned in the

Torah, only two have survived the Destruction of the Temple. There is, however, a

marked contrast between these festivals, as recorded in the Talmud. Purim has an

entire volume devoted to it, whilst the entire story and ritual rules of Chanukah are

contained in a few lines in Talmud Shabbat.

The late Rabbi J.B. Soloveitchik, formerly head of Yeshiva University’s Rabbinical

Ordination programme in New York, suggests a most convincing reason as to why this is

so. Firstly he notes that with the Romans we associate the word Churban (destruction)

– whilst with the Greeks the dominant theme is Tumah – not destruction but defilement.

What is the reason for this distinction?

The Talmud states “He who sees the burning of a Sefer Torah is duty bound to tear his

garments twice; once for the parchment and once for the writing61” (Moed Katan 26a)

and yet when Rabbi Chanania Ben Teradion is being burned to death and is asked by

his students what it is he sees, he remarks “The parchment is burned but the letters fly

upwards”, i.e. the letters are undamaged. What is the difference between these two

cases?

The answer is that in the latter case the Sefer Torah is being burned by a non-Jew. He

has no ability to affect the text of the Torah. He can only destroy the parchment. In the

former case, however, the Sefer Torah is being burned by a Jew. The Jew is capable

not only of damaging the parchment but also damaging the words.

Thus the Romans were capable only of destroying the physical. Therefore, the word

associated with them is Churban – destruction. On the other hand Tumah – defilement

in the spiritual sense means more than physical destruction; it implies damage to the text

and the content of our faith. This is only possible by the act of a Jew.

By highlighting Tumah as the theme of the machinations against us, the Rabbis are

alluding to the fact that the true enemy was not the Greeks, who were only capable of

Churban, but members of our own people, who sought to distort the message of Torah

and to replace it with a defiled and Hellenised version.

This is why in the Al Hanisim prayer we speak of “The deliverance of the wicked into the

hands of the righteous”, but not “The non-Jew into the hand of the Jew”.

Now we can understand why the Talmud kept the Chanukah story low-key. It is to our

shame that the villains of the piece were from our own ranks.

61 Babylonian Talmud, Tractate “Moed Katan” page 26a.

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Bearing the above in mind, we can explain why the oil was defiled but not thrown out.

The defiled oil symbolised the false doctrines of the Jewish Hellenists. Under other

circumstances, there were Halachic dispensations for impure oil to be used. But in the

light of the symbolism of the events, such a measure would run counter to all we believe

in.

We commemorate, therefore, the tenacity of those who refuse to yield. It is a matter of

historical record that there is no trace left of those Hellenised Jews who sought to dilute

their Judaism.

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Turning Points in Tanach (the Bible) – Chanukah

Rabbi Leo Dee, Assistant Rabbi at Hendon United Synagogue and adjunct faculty

member at LSJS

Chanukah is unique amongst the Jewish festivals in that it is the only major festival that

is not included in the Tanach – only the Apocrypha. In fact it missed the Tanach by over

300 years. The story of Chanukah appears in the First Book of Maccabees and is

described in Megillat Taanit and the Babylonian Talmud (Tractate Shabbat).

But whilst it may not qualify as Tanach, Chanukah certainly qualifies as a turning point

for the Jewish people.

Despite the military victory of the Maccabees, the Talmud focuses mostly on the miracle

of the oil that lasted for eight days.

Why do we not hear more about the details of the battles from our traditional texts?

Perhaps it was because the fight was not just Jew against Greek, but also Jew against

Jew. According to the Apocrypha, Hellenised Jews of the time (165 BCE) not only invited

the Greeks into Jerusalem, but openly abandoned Jewish laws and traditions, going to

far as to try to reverse their circumcisions.

Had it not been for the Maccabees, it is unlikely that Jewish tradition would be forgotten

today; more likely that it would appear as a module on a Religious Studies curriculum in

University. The Greeks were not against the intellectual study of philosophy (or even

religion) per se - they were against the practice of a different lifestyle – and against the

enlightenment that it could bring.

When we light the Chanukah candles, we are not so much remembering the battle of

Jew against Greek, nor the battle to study Torah, but rather the battle to live a Jewish

life and enlighten ourselves and the world with a different set of values to the secular

masses.

So Chanukah – not Tanach – but certainly a Turning Point!

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Chanukah Begins At Home

Rabbi Nissan Wilson, Clayhall United Synagogue

Reproduced by kind permission of the Clayhall United Synagogue magazine

Ringing, beeping, buzzing. NOISE!!! You have had enough. All day long at work phones

were ringing, computers were beeping, machines were buzzing. The office closed, you

fled the building, onto the tube and more ringing, beeping, buzzing. But now you are

finally home, you close the door, sink into the armchair and something buzzes, then

something rings. The blackberry or the landline, which one should you take first?

Whatever happened to home sweet home? It seems like there can be no peace or

tranquillity as long as your mobile phone has reception. There must be some place we

can go for a little peace and quiet?

The home must be that place. If the home is not a haven, if the front door does not shut

out the madness, then it is time to re-evaluate the type of place we want our home to be.

In times gone by, the Chanukah lights were lit outside the front door, shining out into the

public thoroughfare. Today, however, most of us light the Chanukah Menorah inside the

house, out of public view. Why has the custom changed?

The Shulchan Aruch, the major Code of Jewish Law62, tells us that where possible, the

Menorah should face out onto a public place, but where there is any threat or danger, it

should be placed out of view. Given the possibility of vandalism or malicious fire

damage, we still light the Menorah inside, even in the lawful society of the UK.

Yet there is a much deeper significance behind this development.

The Jewish home should be an oasis of sanctity, a place where the door can be shut to

the madness of the street and the frenzy of the marketplace. We should come home at

the end of the day, out of the darkness and into the warm light of our own Jewish home.

If every home was such a spiritual utopia, there would be enough light to illuminate the

dark world outside too. We could each place our Menorah by the door and beam our

radiant light into the streets beyond.

Nowadays, though, when we take a candid look, we are often forced to admit that our

homes could do with some brightening up. In such times, the Menorah is best placed

inside, where it can light up the home and rekindle the spark in our souls63.

62 Written by Rabbi Joseph Caro (1488-1575), in Safed, Israel. See Section “Orach Chayim”

671:5 for the full citation of this ruling.

63 See “Sefat Emet” by Rabbi Yehuda Leib Alter, the second “Gerer Rebbe”, 1847-1905. The

reference here is to Bereishit, page 199.

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Yes, sanctity begins at home, not in the synagogue or study hall – but at home. This

message is striking. Start at home; place your Menorah on a table in your front room and

feel its sweet light filling the entire house. Let the light shine through to the synagogue,

the school, the study hall, communal and work areas.

The late great Rabbi Shlomo Zalman Auerbach (1910-1995) of Jerusalem once returned

home from his Yeshiva accompanied by a young student. Before entering his house,

Rabbi Auerbach straightened his clothes making sure that he looked neat and

respectable. The student was puzzled. ‘Rabbi’ he asked, ‘most people tidy their hair and

their clothes before they leave the house to go out. Why do you do just the opposite?’

‘Young man,’ the rabbi replied, ‘the Talmud says that when there is peace in a home the

Divine Presence dwells in that home. In my home there is no marital strife, no arguing

and no bickering. In this house there is Torah study and mitzvah observance, peace and

love. So I believe that my home is graced with the Divine Presence. It is only right, then,

that I make sure I am appropriately dressed before entering such a sacred place.’

When we return home each day, we should feel as though we have come to the most

spiritual place on earth. We can learn to shut the door, leaving behind the outside world

and allowing the inner world its fullest expression.

This year on Chanukah, come in out of the cold. Let us shut out the darkness and kindle

the lights of own our souls.

May the Almighty see our efforts and bless our homes.

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Chanukah

Rabbi Dr Moshe Freedman, Northwood United Synagogue There are many thematic connections between the story of Joseph, which we read in shul on Shabbat during the period of Chanukah, and the festival of Chanukah itself. One episode in particular reflects the very essence of Chanukah and contains a stunningly beautiful message for our times. After arriving in Egypt, Joseph is sold by the Midianite merchants to Potifar who appoints him as overseer of his entire house. Joseph’s good looks catch the attention of Potifar’s wife and she begins to seduce him. Day after day she tries to persuade him to succumb to her advances. He refuses categorically exclaiming that such behaviour is a grave sin against God. The Torah tells us that on a particular day, Joseph came to the house to perform his work. The Talmud64 records a disagreement between Rav and Shmuel regarding the nature of this work. One held that it simply means that he went to perform his daily duties in the house, whereas the other held that ‘work’ is a euphemism meaning to surrender to his temptations. That day was an Egyptian festival, and everyone had gone to perform idol worship. Potifar’s wife had feigned illness and remained at home alone in order to trap Joseph. As Joseph entered the house, Potifar’s wife caught his garment and said ‘lie with me’. The Talmud65 explains that just as Joseph was about to give in, an image of Jacob appeared in the window of the house saying “Joseph, your brothers will have their names inscribed upon the stones of the breastplate of the high priest, and your name is among them. Do you want your name expunged from amongst theirs and to be called someone who associates with harlots?” At that moment, Joseph regained his strength to resist and fled outside. While the story seems simple enough, there is great depth to this episode; Jacob’s appearance in a window carries enormous significance. A window usually allows light to come from the outside to illuminate the inside of our homes. In the context of the Gemara, this is symbolic of Joseph allowing external modes of behaviour to influence him. Promiscuity was a social norm in ancient Egypt and Joseph was moments from allowing that immoral way of life to influence his actions. His father appeared in a window to remind him that his responsibility was to resist the influence of Egyptian behaviour.

64 Babylonian Talmud (“BT”), Tractate Sotah 36b. The Babylonian Talmud is the big book of

Jewish law and ethics.

65 Ibid

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But just as a window can allow external light in, it also allows light from the inside to shine out. On Chanukah we light candles in our homes to remember our victory over the spiritual assault against our people, and our resistance to the influences of Greek culture. The Chanukah candles represent our responsibility to avoid assimilating the negative social mores of our time and assert our identity as a holy nation. May we all learn to shine our light through our windows into the world, to fulfil our role as an Ohr LaGoyim – a light unto the nations.