Part I: Chanukah as Chanukah
Part II: Chanukah as Sukkot
“..have courage to be different and fight for the dignity of difference.
Rabbi Lord Jonathan Sacks
“On the other hand, how can I turn my back on my faith and my people?
If I try and bend that far, I’ll break. On the other hand…No! There is no other hand!”
Tevye, “Fiddler on the Roof”
I Chanukah as Chanukah
The Jewish people will celebrate the holiday, Chanukah, beginning at sundown December 14, 2025, and ending at sundown December 22, 2025—beginning on the Hebrew calendar date of 25 Kislev and lasting for 8 days. Chanukah (Hebrew: dedication) is a festival marking the miraculous victory of Jewish guerilla freedom fighters over the Seleucid Greek occupiers in the year 164 BCE. After recapturing Jerusalem’s holy Temple, which had been converted into a place of idol worship, they searched for pure oil with which to relight the Temple menorah. They found just enough to burn for one day, but miraculously it burned for eight days until more oil was available—and they rededicated the Temple. On each night of the eight nights of Chanukah, Jewish people light menorahs (chanukiahs), adding one flame each night, until on the eighth day, eight flames are burning brightly. The lighting takes place at home, in a doorway or near a window. Chanukah foods are foods cooked in oil which commemorate the miracle of the oil: jelly doughnuts (sufganiyot) and potato pancakes (latkes) topped with applesauce or sour cream.
Chanukah’s central theme is the struggle against cultural and religious assimilation—a struggle embodied by Hellenistic forces that sought to erase Jewish identity via forced acculturation. It involves the question of how much to assimilate? When is it too much? How far do I bend before I break? How much do we join and when has it gone too far? How much do we laugh at jokes and when do we stop laughing? When do we say with Tevye, “There is no other hand!” The narrative of Chanukah explores the tension between Jewish tradition and engaging with surrounding culture—highlighting the importance of maintaining Jewish identity and external pressures to conform—about the resilience of faith and tradition against pressures to assimilate. Chanukah also illustrates the ongoing tension between “ghettoizing” oneself and completely assimilating. Complete loss of Jewish identity is dangerous, but a refusal to engage with the outside world is also not the answer. The challenge is to find a way to adapt without losing one’s core identity. To “dance as we have for thousands of years—on the edge of the world.”
The core story of Chanukah is the Maccabees’ revolt against the Seleucid-Greeks, who banned Jewish practices in an attempt to Hellenize the Jewish people. The holiday celebrates the victory of those who fought to maintain their spiritual identity, faith and heritage against an external pressure to erase them. And of importance: the story isn’t just about the traditionalists who resisted but also about the “middle” Jews who had to make a choice—those who were strongly attracted to Hellenism but who faced the choice of “when it is too much; gone too far.” The victory was achieved by a coalition that included both traditionalists and those who had adopted some Hellenistic customs but chose to protect their Jewish soul. The history of that phenomenal confrontation and ultimate decision to fight follows.
The death of Alexander the Great in 323 BCE led to the breakup of the Greek empire as 3 of his generals fought for supremacy and divided the Middle East amongst themselves. Ptolemy secured control of Egypt and the Land of Israel. Seleucus grabbed Syria and Asia Minor and Antigonus took Greece. The Land of Israel was thus sandwiched between two of the rivals (Egypt and Syria) and for the next 125 years, Seleucids and Ptolemies battled for this prize. The former finally won in 198 BCE when Antiochus III defeated the Egyptians and incorporated Judea into his empire. In Antiochus’s day, the Syrians were devotees of Greek culture. Initially, he allowed the Jews autonomy but then began a program of Hellenization that threatened to
force the Jews to abandon their monotheism for the Greeks’ paganism. During these times, life in Israel was marked by significant political and cultural tensions, primarily due to the conflict between Jewish practices and the Hellenistic influences. The social structure in Judea was heavily influenced by the priestly aristocracy, particularly the high priests who held significant power—and likely to be included amongst the elite. Many Jews, especially those in urban areas began to adopt Hellenistic lifestyles, which included abandoning traditional Jewish laws and customs. This created a rift between Hellenized Jews and those who adhered strictly to Jewish traditions—often those in rural areas.
Antiochus backed down in the face of Jewish opposition, but his son, Antiochus IV (who called himself “Epiphanes—God manifest”), who inherited the throne in 176 BCE, at first resumed his father’s original policy with some autonomy for the Jews. But a brief Jewish rebellion only hardened his views and then led him to outlaw the tenets of Judaism such as the Sabbath, the study/reading of the Laws of Moses (the Torah) and burned its copies, banned circumcision and defiled the holy Temple by erecting an altar to the god Zeus, allowing the sacrifice of pigs and opening the shrine to non-Jews. His insistence on being regarded as “Epiphanes—God manifest” was anathema to the Jews whose strict monotheism guided their lives. In place of these practices, Antiochus encouraged the development of gymnasia, in which the people gathered to study, to learn and to enjoy each other’s company. After competing in various forms of athletics, men and women soaked themselves in hot baths. Such activities were performed naked. A circumcised Jew taking part in the games in a gymnasium could not hide where his loyalty lay.
Of course, all of this led to an internal Jewish debate. How much of this influence should they accept? How much to change what they think? Even change their appearance? How they dressed? Hide the mark of circumcision? Many Jews were assimilated. They wanted it all—the Hellenistic culture—they emulated everything in Greek culture in order to be accepted in the halls of commerce and power. Core Jewish values of justice and morality got in the way of self-preserving. There were positive aspects to Hellenistic culture, but how much should these aspects redefine Jewish identity? A number of Jews took the easy way of conformity.
But now the Jewish people faced life-decisions. How far do we continue to go? Do we hide our identity or do we fight against oppression? This assimilation was a driving force behind the Maccabean revolt and finally, the extreme measures adopted by Antiochus helped unite the people. In 167 BCE, the Jews rose up behind Mattathias and his five sons and fought for their liberation. In 164 BCE, Jerusalem was recaptured by the Maccabees and the Temple purified, an event that gave birth to the holiday of Chanukah. The final victory of Chanukah was set in motion by the resistance of the most traditional elements—the country folk—to the encroachment of Hellenistic values. The debate of which Greek customs were acceptable, and which crossed the line was answered when the ancient faith and covenant were outlawed. Then there was no more compromise.
Divided by centuries but united by the same dilemma of where-does-compromise-end-and-bottom-line begin, Sholem Aleichem’s Tevye the milkman defines his end point with his wrenching cry, “There is no other hand!” And he also defines the danger: “Traditions, traditions. Without our traditions, our lives would be as shaky as..as…as a fiddler on the roof!..Because of our traditions, we have kept our balance for many, many years..and because of our traditions, every one of us knows who he is and what God expects him to do.”
With Jerusalem recaptured, with victory parades celebrating the first battle for religious freedom, and the Maccabees and the people of Israel returning to observe their traditions in a rededicated Temple, is it likely they celebrated the first Chanukah as a belated Sukkot? Since they were still fighting in caves as guerilla fighters at the time of the usual 8-day autumn celebration of Sukkot, was the first Chanukah actually a belated observation of the neglected holiday—making one 8-day holiday mirroring a second? More to the story of Chanukah. A new value for this season. The Maccabees and Sukkot and Ecclesiastes. The beauty and value of the uncalculated moment. Chanukah as Sukkot.
II Chanukah as Sukkot
“For everything there is a season and a time for every purpose under heaven.”
Ecclesiastes
Scholars suggest the first Chanukah was essentially a delayed celebration of the 8-day harvest festival Sukkot. The Books of Maccabees describes the celebration of a rededicated Temple as an 8-day festival “in the manner of Sukkot.” And the joy of victory would meld naturally with the joyful harvest holiday which is so unreservedly joyful that it is called the Season of Our Rejoicing. The festival of Sukkot begins the fifth day after Yom Kippur. It is of dual significance: historical and agricultural. Historically, Sukkot commemorates the 40-year period during which the children of Israel were wandering in the desert living in temporary shelters. Agriculturally, Sukkot is a harvest festival. The word “Sukkot” means “booths” and refers to the temporary dwellings that we are commanded to live in during this holiday in memory of the period of wandering. Immediately after Yom Kippur, one is enjoined to begin building the “sukkah.” The “sukkah,” or hut, is a flimsy structure with at least 3 sides, whose roof is made out of branches that provide some protection but also allows the stars to be seen at night. Its flimsiness is to focus our minds on the important things of life—away from material possessions. It emphasizes the enjoyment of the present moment and less permanent things. Lasting 8 days (7 days plus Shemini Atzeret and Simchat Torah), it is, as indicated, unreservedly joyful. And thus, the celebration of the Maccabees’ radical victory with “radical joy” makes sense. During Sukkot, Ecclesiastes is read, a megillah which on the surface, speaks of pessimism and cynicism—unless it is read more carefully.
The observance of Sukkot includes the reading of Kohelet (Ecclesiastes) in the synagogue during services on the shabbat of that holiday. Kohelet is part of the Writings of Ketuvim, one of the five megillot (Book of Ruth, Lamentations, Song of Songs, Book of Esther and Ecclesiastes), and is traditionally attributed to King Solomon, although that authorship is questioned by many biblical scholars. It is most famous today for the section that begins, “To everything there is a season,” immortalized by Pete Seeger in the folk song, “Turn, Turn, Turn. To everything there is a season.”
Kohelet (Ecclesiastes), at first blush, reads as profoundly pessimistic giving pause since it seems so counter-intuitive to pair it with Sukkot, the festival of profound joy. It is assumed that King Solomon may have written it at the end of his life, a life of wealth and accomplishments. The son of King David, his mother was the beautiful Batsheva, he had the wealth, power and ability to seek out every avenue of pleasure on earth. Add to that his considerable wisdom and that he was the architect and builder of the beautiful Temple in Jerusalem. He had it all; he had done it all.
Yes, Ecclesiastes (Kohelet) is profoundly pessimistic as it struggles with the meaning of life and death. Again and again, it repeats the refrain, “Vanity, vanity, all is vanity” as it catalogues our efforts to provide our lives with a sense of meaning by building monuments that will outlast us. Death is a problem. If all is temporary, then what’s the point? If life leads inexorably toward a time when it disappears like a puff of smoke, then our existence is an exercise of futility. Hence the question, why do we read this seemingly depressing megillah at Sukkot, a holiday of joy?
But King Solomon sees a way out of the abyss of melancholy. The solution is to embrace the temporality of life, without looking beyond, to savor the moment. Man’s downfall is the vain effort to deny the truth that cannot be denied. Rabbi Lord Jonathan Sacks, of blessed memory, leads us to an understanding of Kohelet when he describes it as “Radical Joy.” “Kohelet,” he states, “is a sustained meditation on mortality, one of the most profound in literature.” Its meaning hinges on one word: hevel, occurring 38 times in the megillah. Hevel has several meanings—it has been translated as “vanity,” but the primary meaning is breath, specifically, “a shallow breath,’” and what obsesses Kohelet is that all that separates us from death is a shallow breath. So, then Kohelet asks, what gives life meaning, what will redeem us from that “shadow of death?” Kohelet’s answer is joy, simcha. What redeems life is joy in the moment, to savor the temporality of life without looking beyond, to savor the moment: ‘..joy in our work (Kohelet 5:11); “see life with the woman you love,” (Kohelet 9:9); take joy in each day..Joy doesn’t involve, as does happiness, a judgment about life as a whole. Joy lives in the moment—inhaling to the full each day, this hour..a state of radical thankfulness for the gift of being. It asks no questions about tomorrow; it celebrates the power of now. Joy doesn’t ask how long it will last; it discovers epiphany in the here and the now..the brevity of life makes each moment precious. It doesn’t ask what was or will be. It makes no calculations.
“Sukkot is the festival of insecurity. It’s the candid acknowledgment that there is no life without risk, yet we can face the future without fear when we know that God is with us, in the rain that brings blessings to the earth, in the love that brought us into being..and in the resilience of spirit that allowed a small and vulnerable people to outlive the greatest empires the world has ever known.” (Rabbi Lord Jonathan Sacks, “Radical Joy.”)
And that is possibly the spirit in which the Maccabees, “as a small and vulnerable people,” may very well have celebrated a special belated Sukkot after, against all odds, conquering one of “the greatest empires the world has ever known.” Chanukah as Sukkot.
Kohelet-type Moments of Joy. The colors of autumn—the deep reds, explosive oranges and golden yellows. Watching/hearing the Colorado Symphony perform Beethoven’s Ninth Symphony with its “Ode to Joy.” Holding my 7-month-old grandson, Tommy, his brown-eyed gaze engaging with mine, then the smile and the baby chatter. The hugs from my 3-year-old granddaughter, Nava. My 7-year-old granddaughter Charley’s question, “Isn’t it time for us to get Grandma Jean’s Halloween box?” Watching/hearing Yefim Bronfman and the Aspen Festival Symphony rehearse Beethoven’s “Emperor” Concerto in the cool of an early August morning in Aspen. Then watching him perform it in concert 6 hours later, telling myself, “Remember this moment; every nuance; every note.” Moments with my son-in-law, David, when he drives me to medical appointments requiring a driver. My granddaughter, Charley, reciting with me the blessing over the candles and the Shehecheyanu at erev Rosh Hashanah dinner. After a girls’ trip, my daughter Lisa saying, “Thank you, Mommela. I had such a good time.” My daughter, Lisa, joining me to do the haftarah blessings at a women’s shabbaton at Trinidad’s Temple Aaron. A tap on the shoulder and a surprise hug from a Temple congregant after services. The laughter and talk of our dinner group after Friday night services. The call from stepson, Steve, 6 weeks after my husband (his father) died, 2014: “We know you will be alone for Mother’s Day and Dad’s birthday; how about coming to Park City and spending it with us?” The pinks, blues, purples, reds, oranges of a Colorado sunset. A snowflake.
“To everything, turn, turn, turn
There is a season, turn, turn, turn
And a time to every purpose under heaven
A time to be born, a time to die
A time to plant, a time to reap
A time to kill, a time to heal
A time to laugh, a time to weep
A time to build up, a time to break down
A time to dance, a time to mourn
A time to cast away stones
A time to gather stones together
A time of love, a time of hate
A time of war, a time of peace
A time you may embrace
A time to refrain from embracing
A time to gain, a time to lose
A time to rend, a time to sew
A time for love, a time for hate
A time for peace, I swear it’s not too late”*
Pete Seeger, 1959, adapted from Ecclesiastes 3: 1-8
*not Biblical; added by Pete Seeger during Viet Nam war
Happy Chanukah
Jean Guthery